UC-NRLF 


B   M   71T   571 


jfiction,  JFact,  aub  JTaunj  0cries 

EDITED  BY  ARTHUR  STEDMAN 


MERRY  TALES 


JFktton,  JFact,  emit  JFancg  Series. 


MERRY  TALES. 


BY  MARK  TWAIN. 


THE  GERMAN  EMPEROR  AND  HIS  EASTERN 
NEIGHBORS. 

BY    POULTNEY   BlGELOW. 


SELECTED   POEMS. 

BY  WALT  WHITMAN. 


DON    FINIMONDONE  :     CALABRIAN 
SKETCHES. 

BY  ELISABETH  CAVAZZA. 

Other  Volumes  to  be  Announced. 


Bound  in  Illuminated  Cloth,  each,  75  Cents. 

#**  For  Sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid,  on  re 
ceipt  of  price,  by  the  Publishers, 

OHAS,  L,  WEBSTEK  &  00,,  NEW  YOKK 


MERRY  TALES 


BY 


MARK  TWAIN 


12  or  k 

CHARLES  L.  WEBSTER  &  CO. 
1892 


Copyright,  1892, 
CHARLES    L.  WEBSTER   &   CO. 

rights  reserved.} 


PRESS  OF 

JENKINS  &  McCowAN, 

NEW  YORK. 


CONTENTS. 

^,    **»  

PAGE 

^    THE  PRIVATE  HISTORY  OF  A  CAMPAIGN  THAI- 
FAILED,    9 

1     THE  INVALID'S  STORY, 51 

-      LUCK, 66 

i     THE  CAPTAIN'S  STORY, ?6 

.     A  CURIOUS  EXPERIENCE, 85 

/  MRS.  McWlLLIAMS  AND  THE  LIGHTNING,     .    .  144 

MEISTERSCHAFT 161 


MERRY  TALES. 


THE   PRIVATE    HISTORY   OF  A  CAM 
PAIGN  THAT  FAILED. 

YOU  have  heard  from  a  great  many  people 
who  did  something  in  the  war;  is  it  not 
fair  and  right  that  you  listen  a  little  moment 
to  one  who  started  out  to  do  something  in  it, 
but  didn't  ?  Thousands  entered  the  war,  got 
just  a  taste  of  it,  and  then  stepped  out  again, 
permanently.  These,  by  their  very  numbers, 
are  respectable,  and  are  therefore  entitled  to  a 
sort  of  voice, — not  a  loud  one,  but  a  modest 
one;  not  a  boastful  one,  but  an  apologetic  one. 
They  ought  not  to  be  allowed  much  space 
among  better  people — people  who  did  some 
thing — I  grant  that;  but  they  ought  at  least  to 
be  allowed  to  state  why  they  didn't  do  any 
thing,  and  also  to  explain  the  process  by  which 
they  didn't  do  anything.  Surely  this  kind  of 
light  must  have  a  sort  of  value. 


10  THE    PRIVATE    HISTORY    OF 

Out  West  there  was  a  good  deal  of  confusion 
in  men's  minds  during  the  first  months  of  the 
great  trouble—a  good  deal  of  unsettledness, 
of  leaning  first  this  way,  then  that,  then  the 
other  way.  It  was  hard  for  us  to  get  our 
bearings.  I  call  to  mind  an  instance  of  this. 
I  was  piloting  on  the  Mississippi  when  the  news 
came  that  South  Carolina  had  gone  out  of  the 
Union  on  the  2Oth  of  December,  1860.  My 
pilot-mate  was  a  New  Yorker.  He  was  strong 
for  the  Union;  so  was  I.  But  he  would  not 
listen  to  me  with  any  patience;  my  loyalty  was 
smirched,  to  his  eye,  because  my  father  had 
owned  slaves.  I  said,  in  palliation  of  this  dark 
fact,  that  I  had  heard  my  father  say,  some 
years  before  he  died,  that  slavery  was  a  great 
wrong,  and  that  he  would  free  the  solitary  ne 
gro  he  then  owned  if  he  could  think  it  right  to 
give  away  the  property  of  the  family  when  he 
was  so  straitened  in  means.  My  mate  retorted 
that  a  mere  impulse  was  nothing — anybody 
could  pretend  to  a  good  impulse;  and  went  on 
decrying  my  Unionism  and  libeling  my  ances 
try.  A  month  later  the  secession  atmosphere 


A   CAMPAIGN   THAT    FAILED.  II 

had  considerably  thickened  on  the  Lower  Mis 
sissippi,  and  I  became  a  rebel;  so  did  he.  We 
were  together  in  New  Orleans,  the  26th  of  Jan 
uary,  when  Louisiana  went  out  of  the  Union. 
He  did  his  full  share  of  the  rebel  shouting,  but 
was  bitterly  opposed  to  letting  me  do  mine. 
He  said  that  I  came  of  bad  stock — of  a  father 
who  had  been  willing  to  set  slaves  free.  In  the 
following  summer  he  was  piloting  a  Federal 
gun-boat  and  shouting  for  the  Union  again, 
and  I  was  in  the  Confederate  army.  I  held  his 
note  for  some  borrowed  money.  He  was  one 
of  the  most  upright  men  I  ever  knew;  but  he 
repudiated  that  note  without  hesitation,  be 
cause  I  was  a  rebel,  and  the  son  of  a  man  who 
owned  slaves. 

In  that  summer — of  1861 — the  first  was-h  of 
the  wave  of  war  broke  upon  the  shores  of  Mis 
souri.  Our  State  was  invaded  by  the  Union 
forces.  They  took  possession  of  St.  Louis,  Jef 
ferson  Barracks,  and  some  other  points.  The 
Governor,  Claib  Jackson,  issued  his  proclama 
tion  calling  out  fifty  thousand  militia  to  repel 
the  invader. 


12  THE   PRIVATE   HISTORY   OF 

I  was  visiting  in  the  small  town  where  my 
boyhood  had  been  spent — Hannibal,  Marion 
County.  Several  of  us  got  together  in  a  se 
cret  place  by  night  and  formed  ourselves  into 
a  military  company.  One  Tom  Lyman,  a 
young  fellow  of  a  good  deal  of  spirit  but  of 
no  military  experience,  was  made  captain;  I 
was  made  second  lieutenant.  We  had  no  first 
lieutenant;  I  do  not  know  why;  it  was  long 
ago.  There  were  fifteen  of  us.  By  the  advice 
of  an  innocent  connected  with  the  organiza 
tion,  we  called  ourselves  the  Marion  Rangers. 
I  do  not  remember  that  any  one  found  fault 
with  the  name.  I  did  not;  I  thought  it  sounded 
quite  well.  The  young  fellow  who  proposed 
this  title  was  perhaps  a  fair  sample  of  the  kind 
of  stuff  we  were  made  of.  He  was  young,  ig 
norant,  good-natured,  well-meaning,  trivial, 
full  of  romance,  and  given  to  reading  chival- 
ric  novels  and  singing  forlorn  love-ditties.  He 
had  some  pathetic  little  nickel-plated  aristo 
cratic  instincts,  and  detested  his  name,  which 
was  Dunlap  ;  detested  it,  partly  because  it 
was  nearly  as  common  in  that  region  as  Smith, 


A   CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED.  13 

but  mainly  because  it  had  a  plebeian  sound  to 
his  ear.  So  he  tried  to  ennoble  it  by  writing 
it  in  this  way:  (TUnlap.  That  contented  his 
eye,  but  left  his  ear  unsatisfied,  for  people  gave 
the  new  name  the  same  old  pronunciation- 
emphasis  on  the  front  end  of  it.  He  then  did 
the  bravest  thing  that  can  be  imagined,  —  a 
thing  to  make  one  shiver  when  one  remem 
bers  how  the  world  is  given  to  resenting  shams 
and  affectations;  he  began  to  write  his  name  so: 
d'Un  Lap.  And  he  waited  patiently  through 
the  long  storm  of  mud  that  was  flung  at  this 
work  of  art,  and  he  had  his  reward  at  last;  for 
he  lived  to  see  that  name  accepted,  and  the 
emphasis  put  where  he  wanted  it,  by  people 
who  had  known  him  all  his  life,  and  to  whom 
the  tribe  of  Dunlaps  had  been  as  familiar  as 
the  rain  and  the  sunshine  for  forty  years.  So 
sure  of  victory  at  last  is  the  courage  that  can 
wait.  He  said  he  had  found,  by  consulting 
some  ancient  French  chronicles,  that  the  name 
was  rightly  and  originally  written  d'Un  Lap; 
and  said  that  if  it  were  translated  into  English 
it  would  mean  Peterson:  Lap,  Latin  or  Greek, 


14  THE    PRIVATE    HISTORY    OF 

he  said,  for  stone  or  rock,  same  as  the  French 
pierre,  that  is  to  say,  Peter;  d\  of  or  from; 
un,  a  or  one;  hence,  d'Un  Lap,  of  or  from  a 
stone  or  a  Peter  ;  that  is  to  say,  one  who  is 
the  son  of  a  stone,  the  son  of  a  Peter — Peter 
son.  Our  militia  company  were  not  learned, 
and  the  explanation  confused  them;  so  they 
called  him  Peterson  Dunlap.  He  proved  use 
ful  to  us  in  his  way;  he  named  our  camps  for 
us,  and  he  generally  struck  a  name  that  was 
"  no  slouch,"  as  the  boys  said. 

That  is  one  sample  cf  us.  Another  was  Ed 
Stevens,  son  of  the  town  jeweler, — trim-built, 
handsome,  graceful,  neat  as  a  cat;  bright,  ed 
ucated,  but  given  over  entirely  to  fun.  There 
was  nothing  serious  in  life  to  him.  As  far  as 
he  was  concerned,  this  military  expedition  of 
ours  was  simply  a  holiday.  I  should  say  that 
about  half  of  us  looked  upon  it  in  the  same  way; 
not  consciously,  perhaps,  but  unconsciously. 
We  did  not  think;  we  were  not  capable  of  it. 
As  for  myself,  I  was  full  of  unreasoning  joy  to 
be  done  with  turning  out  of  bed  at  midnight 
and  four  in  the  morning,  for  a  while;  grateful 


A   CAMPAIGN   THAT    FAILED.  15 

to  have  a  change,  new  scenes,  new  occupa 
tions,  a  new  interest.  In  my  thoughts  that 
was  as  far  as  I  went;  I  did  not  go  into 
the  details;  as  a  rule  one  doesn't  at  twenty- 
four. 

Another  sample  was  Smith,  the  blacksmith's 
apprentice.  This  vast  donkey  had  some  pluck, 
of  a  slow  and  sluggish  nature,  but  a  soft  heart; 
at  one  time  he  would  knock  a  horse  down  for 
some  impropriety,  and  at  another  he  would 
get  homesick  and  cry.  However,  he  had  one 
ultimate  credit  to  his  account  which  some  of 
us  hadn't:  he  stuck  to  the  war,  and  was  killed 
in  battle  at  last. 

Jo  Bowers,  another  sample,  was  a  huge, 
good-natured,  flax-headed  lubber;  lazy,  senti 
mental,  full  of  harmless  brag,  a  grumbler  by 
nature;  an  experienced,  industrious,  ambitious, 
and  often  quite  picturesque  liar,  and  yet  not  a 
successful  one,  for  he  had  had  no  intelligent 
training,  but  was  allowed  to  come  up  just  any 
way.  This  life  was  serious  enough  to  him, 
and  seldom  satisfactory.  But  he  was  a  good 
fellow  anyway,  and  the  boys  all  liked  him.  He 


JO  THE    PRIVATE    HISTORY    OF 

was  made  orderly  sergeant;  Stevens  was  made 
corporal. 

These  samples  will  answer — and  they  are 
quite  fair  ones.  Well,  this  herd  of  cattle  start 
ed  for  the  war.  What  could  you  expect  of  them  ? 
They  did  as  well  as  they  knew  how,  but  really 
what  was  justly  to  be  expected  of  them  ?  Noth 
ing,  I  should  say.  That  is  what  they  did. 

We  waited  for  a  dark  night,  for  caution  and 
secrecy  were  necessary;  then,  toward  mid 
night,  we  stole  in  couples  and  from  various  di 
rections  to  the  Griffith  place,  beyond  the  town; 
from  that  point  we  set  out  together  on  foot. 
Hannibal  lies  at  the  extreme  southeastern 
corner  of  Marion  County,  on  the  Mississippi 
River;  our  objective  point  was  the  hamlet  of 
New  London,  ten  miles  away,  in  Rails  County. 

The  first  hour  was  all  fun,  all  idle  nonsense 
and  laughter.  But  that  could  not  be  kept  up. 
The  steady  trudging  came  to  be  like  work;  the 
play  had  somehow  oozed  out  of  it;  the  stillness 
of  the  woods  and  the  somberness  of  the  night 
began  to  throw  a  depressing  influence  over  the 
spirits  of  the  boys,  and  presently  the  talking 


A   CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED.  I/ 

died  out  and  each  person  shut  himself  up  in  his 
own  thoughts.  During  the  last  half  of  the 
second  hour  nobody  said  a  word. 

Now  we  approached  a  log  farm-house  where, 
according  to  report,  there  was  a  guard  of  five 
Union  soldiers.  Lyman  called  a  halt;  and 
there,  in  the  deep  gloom  of  the  overhanging 
branches,  he  began  to  whisper  a  plan  of  as 
sault  upon  that  house,  which  made  the  gloom 
more  depressing  than  it  was  before.  It  was  a 
crucial  moment;  we  realized,  with  a  cold  sud 
denness,  that  here  was  no  jest — we  were  stand 
ing  face  to  face  with  actual  war.  We  were 
equal  to  the  occasion.  In  our  response  there 
was  no  hesitation,  no  indecision  :  we  said 
that  if  Lyman  wanted  to  meddle  with  those 
soldiers,  he  could  go  ahead  and  do  it;  but  if  he 
waited  for  us  to  follow  him,  he  would  wait  a 
long  time. 

Lyman  urged,  pleaded,  tried  to  shame  us, 
but  it  had  no  effect.  Our  course  was  plain,  our 
minds  were  made  up:  we  would  flank  the  farm 
house — go  out  around.  And  that  is  what  we  did. 

We  struck  into  the  woods  and  entered  upon 


18  THE    PRIVATE    HISTORY    OF 

a  rough  time,  stumbling  over  roots,  getting 
tangled  in  vines,  and  torn  by  briers.  At  last 
we  reached  an  open  place  in  a  safe  region,  and 
sat  down,  blown  and  hot,  to  cool  off  and  nurse 
our  scratches  and  bruises.  Lyman  was  annoyed, 
but  the  rest  of  us  were  cheerful;  we  had  flank 
ed  the  farm-house,  we  had  made  our  first  mili 
tary  movement,  and  it  was  a  success;  we  had 
nothing  to  fret  about,  we  were  feeling  just  the 
other  way.  Horse-play  and  laughing  began 
again;  the  expedition  was  become  a  holiday 
frolic  once  more. 

Then  we  had  two  more  hours  of  dull  trudg 
ing  and  ultimate  silence  and  depression;  then, 
about  dawn,  we  straggled  into  New  London, 
soiled,  heel-blistered,  fagged  with  our  little 
march,  and  all  of  us  except  Stevens  in  a  sour 
and  raspy  humor  and  privately  down  on  the 
war.  We  stacked  our  shabby  old  shot-guns  in 
Colonel  Ralls's  barn,  and  then  went  in  a  body 
and  breakfasted  with  that  veteran  of  the  Mex 
ican  War.  Afterwards  he  took  us  to  a  distant 
meadow,  and  there  in  the  shade  of  a  tree  we 
listened  to  an  old-fashioned  speech  from  him, 


A    CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED.  IO 

full  of  gunpowder  and  glory,  full  of  that  adjec 
tive-piling,  mixed  metaphor,  and  windy  decla 
mation  which  was  regarded  as  eloquence  in 
that  ancient  time  and  that  remote  region;  and 
then  he  swore  us  on  the  Bible  to  be  faithful  to 
the  State  of  Missouri  and  drive  all  invaders 
from  her  soil,  no  matter  whence  they  might 
come  or  under  what  flag  they  might  march. 
This  mixed  us  considerably,  and  we  could  not 
make  out  just  what  service  we  were  embarked 
in;  but  Colonel  Rails,  the  practiced  politician 
and  phrase-juggler,  was  not  similarly  in  doubt; 
he  knew  quite  clearly  that  he  had  invested  us 
in  the  cause  of  the  Southern  Confederacy.  He 
closed  the  solemnities  by  belting  around  me 
the  sword  which  his  neighbor,  Colonel  Brown, 
had  worn  at  Buena  Vista  and  Molino  del  Rey; 
and  he  accompanied  this  act  with  another  im 
pressive  blast. 

Then  we  formed  in  line  of  battle  and  marched 
four  miles  to  a  shady  and  pleasant  piece  of 
woods  on  the  border  of  the  far-reaching  ex 
panses  of  a  flowery  prairie.  It  was  an  enchant 
ing  region  for  war — our  kind  of  war. 


20  THE    PRIVATE    HISTORY    OF 

We  pierced  the  forest  about  half  a  mile,  and 
took  up  a  strong  position,  with  some  low,  rocky, 
and  wooded  hills  behind  us,  and  a  purling, 
limpid  creek  in  front.  Straightway  half  the 
command  were  in  swimming,  and  the  other 
half  fishing.  The  ass  with  the  French  name 
gave  this  position  a  romantic  title,  but  it  was 
too  long,  so  the  boys  shortened  and  simplified 
it  to  Camp  Rails. 

We  occupied  an  old  maple-sugar  camp, 
whose  half-rotted  troughs  were  still  propped 
against  the  trees.  A  long  corn-crib  served  for 
sleeping  quarters  for  the  battalion.  On  our 
left,  half  a  mile  away,  was  Mason's  farm  and 
house;  and  he  was  a  friend  to  the  cause. 
Shortly  after  noon  the  farmers  began  to  arrive 
from  several  directions,  with  mules  and  horses 
for  our  use,  and  these  they  lent  us  for  as  long 
as  the  war  might  last,  which  they  judged  would 
be  about  three  months.  The  animals  were  of 
all  sizes,  all  colors,  and  all  breeds.  They  were 
mainly  young  and  frisky,  and  nobody  in  the 
command  could  stay  on  them  long  at  a  time; 
for  we  were  town  boys,  and  ignorant  of  horse- 


A   CAMPAIGN   THAT    FAILED.  21 

manship.  The  creature  that  fell  to  my  share 
was  a  very  small  mule,  and  yet  so  quick  and 
active  that  it  could  throw  me  without  difficulty; 
and  it  did  this  whenever  I  got  on  it.  Then  it 
would  bray — stretching  its  neck  out,  laying  its 
ears  back,  and  spreading  its  jaws  till  you  could 
see  down  to  its  works.  It  was  a  disagreeable 
animal,  in  every  way.  If  I  took  it  by  the  bridle 
and  tried  to  lead  it  off  the  grounds,  it  would  sit 
down  and  brace  back,  and  no  one  could  budge 
it.  However,  I  was  not  entirely  destitute  of 
military  resources,  and  I  did  presently  manage 
to  spoil  this  game ;  for  I  had  seen  many  a  steam 
boat  aground  in  my  time,  and  knew  a  trick  or 
two  which  even  a  grounded  mule  would  be 
obliged  to  respect.  There  was  a  well  by  the 
corn-crib;  so  I  substituted  thirty  fathom  of 
rope  for  the  bridle,  and  fetched  him  home  with 
the  windlass. 

I  will  anticipate  here  sufficiently  to  say  that 
we  did  learn  to  ride,  after  some  days'  practice, 
but  never  well.  We  could  not  learn  to  like 
our  animals;  they  were  not  choice  ones,  and 
most  of  them  had  annoying  peculiarities  of 


22  THE   PRIVATE    HISTORY   OF 

one  kind  or  another.  Stevens's  horse  would 
carry  him,  when  he  was  not  noticing,  under 
the  huge  excrescences  which  form  on  the 
trunks  of  oak-trees,  and  wipe  him  out  of  the 
saddle;  in  this  way  Stevens  got  several  bad 
hurts.  Sergeant  Bowers's  horse  was  very  large 
and  tall,  with  slim,  long  legs,  and  looked  like 
a  railroad  bridge.  His  size  enabled  him  to 
reach  all  about,  and  as  far  as  he  wanted  to, 
with  his  head;  so  he  was  always  biting  Bow 
ers's  legs.  On  the  march,  in  the  sun,  Bowers 
slept  a  good  deal;  and  as  soon  as  the  horse 
recognized  that  he  was  asleep  he  would  reach 
around  and  bite  him  on  the  leg.  His  legs  were 
black  and  blue  with  bites.  This  was  the  only 
thing  that  could  ever  make  him  swear,  but  this 
always  did;  whenever  the  horse  bit  him  he 
always  swore,  and  of  course  Stevens,  who 
laughed  at  everything,  laughed  at  this,  and 
would  even  get  into  such  convulsions  over  it 
as  to  lose  his  balance  and  fall  off  his  horse; 
and  then  Bowers,  already  irritated  by  the  pain 
of  the  horse-bite,  would  resent  the  laughter 
with  hard  language,  and  there  would  be  a 


A   CAMPAIGN   THAT    FAILED.  23 

quarrel;  so  that  horse  made  no  end  of  trouble 
and  bad  blood  in  the  command. 

However,  I  will  get  back  to  where  I  was 
— our  first  afternoon  in  the  sugar-camp.  The 
sugar-troughs  came  very  handy  as  horse- 
troughs,  and  we  had  plenty  of  corn  to  fill  them 
with.  I  ordered  Sergeant  Bowers  to  feed  my 
mule;  but  he  said  that  if  I  reckoned  he  went 
to  war  to  be  dry-nurse  to  a  mule,  it  wouldn't 
take  me  very  long  to  find  out  my  mistake.  I 
believed  that  this  was  insubordination,  but  I 
was  full  of  uncertainties  about  everything  mili 
tary,  and  so  I  let  the  thing  pass,  and  went  and 
ordered  Smith,  the  blacksmith's  apprentice,  to 
feed  the  mule;  but  he  merely  gave  me  a  large, 
cold,  sarcastic  grin,  such  as  an  ostensibly 
seven-year-old  horse  gives  you  when  you  lift 
his  lip  and  find  he  is  fourteen,  and  turned  his 
back  on  me.  I  then  went  to  the  captain,  and 
asked  if  it  was  not  right  and  proper  and  mili 
tary  for  me  to  have  an  orderly.  He  said  it 
was,  but  as  there  was  only  one  orderly  in  the 
corps,  it  was  but  right  that  he  himself  should 
have  Bowers  on  his  staff.  Bowers  said  he 


24  THE    PRIVATE    HISTORY   OF 

wouldn't  serve  on  anybody's  staff;  and  if  any 
body  thought  he  could  make  him,  let  him  try 
it.  So,  of  course,  the  thing  had  to  be  dropped; 
there  was  no  other  way. 

Next,  nobody  would  cook;  it  was  consid 
ered  a  degradation;  so  we  had  no  dinner. 
We  lazied  the  rest  of  the  pleasant  afternoon 
away,  some  dozing  under  the  trees,  some 
smoking  cob-pipes  and  talking  sweethearts 
and  war,  some  playing  games.  By  late  sup 
per-time  all  hands  were  famished;  and  to  meet 
the  difficulty  all  hands  turned  to,  on  an  equal 
footing,  and  gathered  wood,  built  fires,  and 
cooked  the  meal.  Afterward  everything  was 
smooth  for  a  while;  then  trouble  broke  out 
between  the  corporal  and  the  sergeant,  each 
claiming  to  rank  the  other.  Nobody  knew 
which  was  the  higher  office;  so  Lyman  had  to 
settle  the  matter  by  making  the  rank  of  both 
officers  equal.  The  commander  of  an  ignorant 
crew  like  that  has  many  troubles  and  vexations 
which  probably  do  not  occur  in  the  regular 
army  at  all.  However,  with  the  song-singing 
and  yarn-spinning  around  the  camp-fire,  every- 


A    CAMPAIGN   THAT    FAILED.  25 

thing  presently  became  serene  again;  and  by 
and  by  we  raked  the  corn  down  level  in  one 
end  of  the  crib,  and  all  went  to  bed  on  it,  tying 
a  horse  to  the  door,  so  that  he  would  neigh  if 
any  one  tried  to  get  in.* 

We  had  some  horsemanship  drill  every 
forenoon;  then,  afternoons,  we  rode  off  here 
and  there  in  squads  a  few  miles,  and  visited 
the  farmers'  girls,  and  had  a  youthful  good 
time,  and  got  an  honest  good  dinner  or  sup 
per,  and  then  home  again  to  camp,  happy  and 
content. 

For  a  time,  life  was  idly  delicious,  it  was 
perfect;  there  was  nothing  to  mar  it.  Then 
came  some  farmers  with  an  alarm  one  day. 

*  It  was  always  my  impression  that  that  was  what  the 
horse  was  there  for,  and  I  know  that  it  was  also  the  im 
pression  of  at  least  one  other  of  the  command,  for  we  talked 
about  it  at  the  time,  and  admired  the  military  ingenuity  of 
the  device;  but  when  I  was  out  West  three  years  ago  I  was 
told  by  Mr.  A.  G.  Fuqua,  a  member  of  our  company,  that 
the  horse  was  his,  that  the  leaving  him  tied  at  the  door  was 
a  matter  of  mere  forgetfulness,  and  that  to  attribute  it  to 
intelligent  invention  was  to  give  him  quite  too  much  credit. 
In  support  of  his  position,  he  called  my  attention  to  the 
suggestive  fact  that  the  artifice  was  not  employed  again. 
I  had  not  thought  of  that  before. 


26  THE    PRIVATE    HISTORY    OF 

They  said  it  was  rumored  that  the  enemy  were 
advancing  in  our  direction,  from  over  Hyde's 
prairie.  The  result  was  a  sharp  stir  among  us, 
and  general  consternation.  It  was  a  rude 
awakening  from  our  pleasant  trance.  The 
rumor  was  but  a  rumor — nothing  definite  about 
it;  so,  in  the  confusion,  we  did  not  know  which 
way  to  retreat.  Lyman  was  for  not  retreating 
at  all,  in  these  uncertain  circumstances;  but 
he  found  that  if  he  tried  to  maintain  that  atti 
tude  he  would  fare  badly,  for  the  command 
were  in  no  humor  to  put  up  with  insubordina 
tion.  So  he  yielded  the  point  and  called  a 
council  of  war — to  consist  of  himself  and  the 
three  other  officers;  but  the  privates  made 
such  a  fuss  about  being  left  out,  that  we  had  to 
allow  them  to  remain,  for  they  were  already 
present,  and  doing  the  most  of  the  talking  too. 
The  question  was,  which  way  to  retreat;  but 
all  were  so  flurried  that  nobody  seemed  to 
have  even  a  guess  to  offer.  Except  Lyman. 
He  explained  in  a  few  calm  words,  that  inas 
much  as  the  enemy  were  approaching  from 
over  Hyde's  prairie,  our  course  was  simple:  all 


A   CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED.  2/ 

we  had  to  do  was  not  to  retreat  toward  him; 
any  other  direction  would  answer  our  needs 
perfectly.  Everybody  saw  in  a  moment  how 
true  this  was,  and  how  wise;  so  Lyman  got  a 
great  many  compliments.  It  was  now  decided 
that  we  should  fall  back  on  Mason's  farm. 

It  was  after  dark  by  this  time,  and  as  we 
could  not  know  how  soon  the  enemy  might  ar 
rive,  it  did  not  seem  best  to  try  to  take  the 
horses  and  things  with  us;  so  we  only  took  the 
guns  and  ammunition,  and  started  at  once.  The 
route  was  very  rough  and  hilly  and  rocky,  and 
presently  the  night  grew  very  black  and  rain 
began  to  fall;  so  we  had  a  troublesome  time  of 
it,  struggling  and  stumbling  along  in  the  dark; 
and  soon  some  person  slipped  and  fell,  and  then 
the  next  person  behind  stumbled  over  him  and 
fell,  and  so  did  the  rest,  one  after  the  other; 
and  then  Bowers  came  with  the  keg  of  powder 
in  his  arms,  whilst  the  command  were  all  mixed 
together,  arms  and  legs,  on  the  muddy  slope; 
and  so  he  fell,  of  course,  with  the  keg,  and  this 
started  the  whole  detachment  down  the  hill  in 
a  body,  and  they  landed  in  the  brook  at  the 


28  THE   PRIVATE    HISTORY    OF 

bottom  in  a  pile,  and  each  that  was  undermost 
pulling  the  hair  and  scratching  and  biting  those 
that  were  on  top  of  him;  and  those  that  were 
being  scratched  and  bitten,  scratching  and  bit 
ing  the  rest  in  their  turn,  and  all  saying  they 
would  die  before  they  would  ever  go  to  war 
again  if  they  ever  got  out  of  this  brook  this 
time,  and  the  invader  might  rot  for  all  they 
cared,  and  the  country  along  with  him — and  all 
such  talk  as  that,  which  was  dismal  to  hear  and 
take  part  in,  in  such  smothered,  low  voices,  and 
such  a  grisly  dark  place  and  so  wet,  and  the 
enemy  may  be  coming  any  moment. 

The  keg  of  powder  was  lost,  and  the  guns 
too;  so  the  growling  and  complaining  contin 
ued  straight  along  whilst  the  brigade  pawed 
around  the  pasty  hillside  and  slopped  around  in 
the  brook  hunting  for  these  things;  conse 
quently  we  lost  considerable  time  at  this;  and 
then  we  heard  a  sound,  and  held  our  breath 
and  listened,  and  it  seemed  to  be  the  enemy 
coming,  though  it  could  have  been  a  cow,  for 
it  had  a  cough  like  a  cow;  but  we  did  not  wait, 
but  left  a  couple  of  guns  behind  and  struck  out 


A   CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED.  29 

for  Mason's  again  as  briskly  as  we  could  scram 
ble  along  in   the  dark.      But  we  got  lost  pres 
ently  among    the    rugged   little    ravines,  and 
wasted  a  deal  of  time  finding  the  way  again,  so 
it   was    after   nine  when   we  reached  Mason's 
stile  at  last;  and   then  before  we   could  open 
our  mouths  to  give  the    countersign,    several 
dogs  came  bounding  over  the  fence,  with  great 
riot  and  noise,  and  each  of  them  took  a  soldier 
by  the  slack  of  his  trousers  and  began  to  back 
away  with  him.     We  could  not  shoot  the  dogs 
without  endangering  the  persons  they  were  at 
tached  to;  so  we  had  to  look  on,  helpless,  at 
what  was  perhaps  the  most  mortifying  specta 
cle  of  the  civil  war.      There  was  light  enough, 
and  to  spare,  for  the  Masons  had  now  run  out 
on  the  porch  with  candles  in  their  hands.    The 
old  man  and  his  son  came  and  undid  the  dogs 
without  difficulty,  all  but  Bowers's;  but  they 
couldn't  undo  his   dog,   they  didn't  know   his 
combination;    he    was  of  the  bull    kind,    and 
seemed  to  be  set  with  a  Yale  time-lock;  but 
they  got  him  loose  at  last  with  some  scalding 
water,  of  which  Bowers  got  his  share  and  re- 


30  THE    PRIVATE    HISTORY    OF 

turned  thanks.  Peterson  Dunlap  afterwards 
made  up  a  fine  name  for  this  engagement,  and 
also  for  the  night  march  which  preceded  it,  but 
both  have  long  ago  faded  out  of  my  memory. 
We  now  went  into  the  house,  and  they  be 
gan  to  ask  us  a  world  of  questions,  whereby  it 
presently  came  out  that  we  did  not  know  any 
thing  concerning  who  or  what  we  were  run 
ning  from;  so  the  old  gentleman  made  him 
self  very  frank,  and  said  we  were  a  curious 
breed  of  soldiers,  and  guessed  we  could  be  de 
pended  on  to  end  up  the  war  in  time,  because 
no  government  could  stand  the  expense  of  the 
shoe-leather  we  should  cost  it  trying  to  follow 
us  around.  "  Marion  Rangers  !  good  name, 
b'gosh  !  "  said  he.  And  wanted  to  know  why 
we  hadn't  had  a  picket-guard  at  the  place  where 
the  road  entered  the  prairie,  and  why  we  hadn't 
sent  out  a  scouting  party  to  spy  out  the  enemy 
and  bring  us  an  account  of  his  strength,  and  so 
on,  before  jumping  up  and  stampeding  out  of 
a  strong  position  upon  a  mere  vague  rumor — 
and  so  on,  and  so  forth,  till  he  made  us  all  feel 
shabbier  than  the  dogs  had  done,  not  half  so 


A    CAMPAIGN    THAT    FAILED.  31 

enthusiastically  welcome.  So  we  went  to 
bed  shamed  and  low-spirited;  except  Stevens. 
Soon  Stevens  began  to  devise  a  garment  for 
Bowers  which  could  be  made  to  automatically 
display  his  battle-scars  to  the  grateful,  or  con 
ceal  them  from  the  envious,  according  to  his 
occasions;  but  Bowers  was  in  no  humor  for 
this,  so  there  was  a  fight,  and  when  it  was  over 
Stevens  had  some  battle-scars  of  his  own  to 
think  about. 

Then  we  got  a  little  sleep.  But  after  all  we 
had  gone  through,  our  activities  were  not  over 
for  the  night  ;  for  about  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning  we  heard  a  shout  of  warning  from 
down  the  lane,  accompanied  by  a  chorus  from 
all  the  dogs,  and  in  a  moment  everybody  was 
up  and  flying  around  to  find  out  what  the  alarm 
was  about.  The  alarmist  was  a  horseman 
who  gave  notice  that  a  detachment  of  Union 
soldiers  was  on  its  way  from  Hannibal  with  or 
ders  to  capture  and  hang  any  bands  like  ours 
which  it  could  find,  and  said  we  had  no  time  to 
lose.  Farmer  Mason  was  in  a  flurry  this  time, 
himself.  He  hurried  us  out  of  the  house  with 


32  THE    PRIVATE    HISTORY   OF 

all  haste,  and  sent  one  of  his  negroes  with  us 
to  show  us  where  to  hide  ourselves  and  our 
tell-tale  guns  among  the  ravines  half  a  mile 
away.  It  was  raining  heavily. 

We  struck  down  the  lane,  then  across  some 
rocky  pasture-land  which  offered  good  advan 
tages  for  stumbling;  consequently  we  were 
down  in  the  mud  most  of  the  time,  and  every 
time  a  man  went  down  he  blackguarded  the 
war,  and  the  people  that  started  it,  and  every 
body  connected  with  it,  and  gave  himself  the 
master  dose  of  all  for  being  so  foolish  as  to  go 
into  it.  At  last  we  reached  the  wooded  mouth 
of  a  ravine,  and  there  we  huddled  ourselves 
under  the  streaming  trees,  and  sent  the  negro 
back  home.  It  was  a  dismal  and  heart-breaking 
time.  We  were  like  to  be  drowned  with  the 
rain,  deafened  with  the  howling  wind  and  the 
booming  thunder,  and  blinded  by  the  light 
ning.  It  was  indeed  a  wild  night.  The  drench 
ing  we  were  getting  was  misery  enough,  but  a 
deeper  misery  still  was  the  reflection  that  the 
halter  might  end  us  before  we  were  a  day  old 
er.  A  death  of  this  shameful  sort  had  not  oc- 


A   CAMPAIGN   THAT   FAILED.  33 

curred  to  us  as  being  among  the  possibilities  of 
war.  It  took  the  romance  all  out  of  the  cam 
paign,  and  turned  our  dreams  of  glory  into  a 
repulsive  nightmare.  As  for  doubting  that  so 
barbarous  an  order  had  been  given,  not  one  of 
us  did  that. 

The  long  night  wore  itself  out  at  last,  and 
then  the  negro  came  to  us  with  the  news  that 
the  alarm  had  manifestly  been  a  false  one,  and 
that  breakfast  would  soon  be  ready.  Straight 
way  we  were  light-hearted  again,  and  the 
world  was  bright,  and  life  as  full  of  hope  and 
promise  as  ever — for  we  were  young  then. 
How  long  ago  that  was  !  Twenty  -  four 
years. 

The  mongrel  child  of  philology  named  the 
night's  refuge  Camp  Devastation,  and  no  soul 
objected.  The  Masons  gave  us  a  Missouri 
country  breakfast,  in  Missourian  abundance, 
and  we  needed  it:  hot  biscuits;  hot  "  wheat 
bread  "  prettily  criss-crossed  in  a  lattice  pat 
tern  on  top;  hot  corn  pone;  fried  chicken; 
bacon,  coffee,  eggs,  milk,  buttermilk,  etc.; — 
and  the  world  may  be  confidently  challenged 


34  THE   PRIVATE   HISTORY   OF 

to  furnish  the  equal  to  such  a  breakfast,  as  it  is 
cooked  in  the  South. 

We  staid  several  days  at  Mason's;  and  after 
all  these  years  the  memory  of  the  dullness,  the 
stillness  and  lifelessness  of  that  slumberous 
farm-house  still  oppresses  my  spirit  as  with  a 
sense  of  the  presence  of  death  and  mourning. 
There  was  nothing  to  do,  nothing  to  think 
about;  there  was  no  interest  in  life.  The  male 
part  of  the  household  were  away  in  the  fields 
all  day,  the  women  were  busy  and  out  of  our 
sight;  there  was  no  sound  but  the  plaintive 
wailing  of  a  spinning-wheel,  forever  moaning 
out  from  some  distant  room, — the  most  lone 
some  sound  in  nature,  a  sound  steeped  and 
sodden  with  homesickness  and  the  emptiness 
of  life.  The  family  went  to  bed  about  dark 
every  night,  and  as  we  were  not  invited  to  in 
trude  any  new  customs,  we  naturally  followed 
theirs.  Those  nights  were  a  hundred  years 
long  to  youths  accustomed  to  being  up  till 
twelve.  We  lay  awake  and  miserable  till  that 
hour  every  time,  and  grew  old  and  decrepit 
waiting  through  the  still  eternities  for  the 


A   CAMPAIGN   THAT    FAILED.  35 

clock-strikes.  This  was  no  place  for  town 
boys.  So  at  last  it  was  with  something  very 
like  joy  that  we  received  news  that  the  enemy 
were  on  our  track  again.  With  a  new  birth  of 
the  old  warrior  spirit,  we  sprang  to  our  places 
in  line  of  battle  and  fell  back  on  Camp  Rails. 
Captain  Lyman  had  taken  a  hint  from  Ma 
son's  talk,  and  he  now  gave  orders  that  our 
camp  should  be  guarded  against  surprise  by 
the  posting  of  pickets.  I  was  ordered  to  place 
a  picket  at  the  forks  of  the  road  in  Hyde's 
prairie.  Night  shut  down  black  and  threaten 
ing.  I  told  Sergeant  Bowers  to  go  out  to  that 
place  and  stay  till  midnight;  and,  just  as  I  was 
expecting,  he  said  he  wouldn't  do  it.  I  tried 
to  get  others  to  go,  but  all  refused.  Some 
excused  themselves  on  account  of  the  weather; 
but  the  rest  were  frank  enough  to  say  they 
wouldn't  go  in  any  kind  of  weather.  This 
kind  of  thing  sounds  odd  now,  and  impossible, 
but  there  was  no  surprise  in  it  at  the  time. 
On  the  contrary,  it  seemed  a  perfectly  natural 
thing  to  do.  There  were  scores  of  little  camps 
scattered  over  Missouri  where  the  same  thing 


36  THE   PRIVATE    HISTORY    OF 

was  happening.  These  camps  were  composed 
of  young  men  who  had  been  born  and  reared 
to  a  sturdy  independence,  and  who  did  not 
know  what  it  meant  to  be  ordered  around  by 
Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry,  whom  they  had  known 
familiarly  all  their  lives,  in  the  village  or  on  the 
farm.  It  is  quite  within  the  probabilities  that 
this  same  thing  was  happening  all  over  the 
South.  James  Redpath  recognized  the  justice 
of  this  assumption,  and  furnished  the  following 
instance  in  support  of  it.  During  a  short  stay 
in  East  Tennessee  he  was  in  a  citizen  colonel's 
tent  one  day,  talking,  when  a  big  private  ap 
peared  at  the  door,  and  without  salute  or  other 
circumlocution  said  to  the  colonel, — 

"  Say,  Jim,  I'm  a-goin'  home  for  a  few  days." 

"What  for?" 

"  Well,  I  hain't  b'en  there  for  a  right  smart 
while,  and  I'd  like  to  see  -how  things  is  comin' 
on." 

"  How  long  are  you  going  to  be  gone  ? " 

"  'Bout  two  weeks." 

"Well,  don't  be  gone  longer  than  that;  and 
get  back  sooner  if  you  can." 


A   CAMPAIGN   THAT    FAILED.  3/ 

That  was  all,  and  the  citizen  officer  resumed 
his  conversation  where  the  private  had  broken 
it  off.  This  was  in  the  first  months  of  the  war, 
of  course.  The  camps  in  our  part  of  Missouri 
were  under  Brigadier-General  Thomas  H. 
Harris.  He  was  a  townsman  of  ours,  a  first- 
rate  fellow,  and  well  liked;  but  we  had  all 
familiarly  known  him  as  the  sole  and  modest- 
salaried  operator  in  our  telegraph  office,  where 
he  had  to  send  about  one  dispatch  a  week  in 
ordinary  times,  and  two  when  there  was  a 
rush  of  business;  consequently,  when  he  ap 
peared  in  our  midst  one  day,  on  the  wing,  and 
delivered  a  military  command  of  some  sort,  in 
a  large  military  fashion,  nobody  was  surprised 
at  the  response  which  he  got  from  the  as 
sembled  soldiery,— 

"  Oh,  now,  what'll  you  take  to  dont,  Tom 
Harris  !  " 

It  was  quite  the  natural  thing.  One  might 
justly  imagine  that  we  were  hopeless  material 
for  war.  And  so  we  seemed,  in  our  ignorant 
state  ;  but  there  were  those  among  us  who 
afterward  learned  the  grim  trade;  learned  to 


38  THE    PRIVATE    HISTORY   OF 

obey  like  machines;  became  valuable  soldiers; 
fought  all  through  the  war,  and  came  out  at 
the  end  with  excellent  records.  One  of  the 
very  boys  who  refused  to  go  out  on  picket 
duty  that  night,  and  called  me  an  ass  for  think 
ing  he  would  expose  himself  to  danger  in  such 
a  foolhardy  way,  had  become  distinguished  for 
intrepidity  before  he  was  a  year  older. 

I  did  secure  my  picket  that  night — not  by 
authority,  but  by  diplomacy.  I  got  Bowers  to 
go,  by  agreeing  to  exchange  ranks  with  him 
for  the  time  being,  and  go  along  and  stand  the 
watch  with  him  as  his  subordinate.  We  staid 
out  there  a  couple  of  dreary  hours  in  the  pitchy 
darkness  and  the  rain,  with  nothing  to  modify 
the  dreariness  but  Bowers's  monotonous 
growlings  at  the  war  and  the  weather;  then 
we  began  to  nod,  and  presently  found  it  next 
to  impossible  to  stay  in  the  saddle;  so  we 
gave  up  the  tedious  job,  and  went  back  to  the 
camp  without  waiting  for  the  relief  guard.  We 
rode  into  camp  without  interruption  or  objec 
tion  from  anybody,  and  the  enemy  could  have 
done  the  same,  for  there  were  no  sentries. 


A   CAMPAIGN   THAT    FAILED.  39 

Everybody  was  asleep;  at  midnight  there  was 
nobody  to  send  out  another  picket,  so  none 
was  sent.  We  never  tried  to  establish  a  watch 
at  night  again,  as  far  as  I  remember,  but  we 
generally  kept  a  picket  out  in  the  daytime. 

In  that  camp  the  whole  command  slept  on 
the  corn  in  the  big  corn-crib;  and  there  was 
usually  a  general  row  before  morning,  for  the 
place  was  full  of  rats,  and  they  would  scramble 
over  the  boys'  bodies  and  faces,  annoying  and 
irritating  everybody;  and  now  and  then  they 
would  bite  some  one's  toe,  and  the  person 
who  owned  the  toe  would  start  up  and  mag 
nify  his  English  and  begin  to  throw  corn  in 
the  dark.  The  ears  were  half  as  heavy  as 
bricks,  and  when  they  struck  they  hurt.  The 
persons  struck  would  respond,  and  inside  of 
five  minutes  every  man  would  be  locked  in  a 
death-grip  with  his  neighbor.  There  was  a 
grievous  deal  of  blood  shed  in  the  corn-crib, 
but  this  was  all  that  was  spilt  while  I  was  in 
the  war.  No,  that  is  not  quite  true.  But  for 
one  circumstance  it  would  have  been  all.  I 
will  come  to  that  now. 


40  THE    PRIVATE    HISTORY    OF 

Our  scares  were  frequent.  Every  few  days 
rumors  would  come  that  the  enemy  were  ap 
proaching.  In  these  cases  we  always  fell  back 
on  some  other  camp  of  ours;  we  never  staid 
where  we  were.  But  the  rumors  always  turned 
out  to  be  false;  so  at  last  even  we  began  to 
grow  indifferent  to  them.  One  night  a  negro 
was  sent  to  our  corn-crib  with  the  same  old 
warning :  the  enemy  was  hovering  in  our 
neighborhood.  We  all  said  let  him  hover. 
We  resolved  to  stay  still  and  be  comfortable. 
It  was  a  fine  warlike  resolution,  and  no  doubt 
we  all  felt  the  stir  of  it  in  our  veins — for  a  mo 
ment.  We  had  been  having  a  very  jolly  time, 
that  was  full  of  horse-play  and  school-boy 
hilarity;  but  that  cooled  down  now,  and  pres 
ently  the  fast-waning  fire  of  forced  jokes  and 
forced  laughs  died  out  altogether,  and  the 
company  became  silent.  Silent  and  nervous. 
And  soon  uneasy  —  worried  —  apprehensive. 
We  had  said  we  would  stay,  and  we  were  com 
mitted.  We  could  have  been  persuaded  to  go, 
but  there  was  nobody  brave  enough  to  sug 
gest  it.  An  almost  noiseless  movement  pres- 


A   CAMPAICzN   THAT    FAILED.  4! 

ently  began  in  the  dark,  by  a  general  but  un 
voiced  impulse.  When  the  movement  was 
completed,  each  man  knew  that  he  was  not 
the  only  person  who  had  crept  to  the  front 
wall  and  had  his  eye  at  a  crack  between  the 
logs.  No,  we  were  all  there;  all  there  with 
our  hearts  in  our  throats,  and  staring  out 
toward  the  sugar  -  troughs  where  the  forest 
foot  -  path  came  through.  It  was  late,  and 
was  a  deep  woodsy  stillness  everywhere. 
There  was  a  veiled  moonlight,  which  was  only 
just  strong  enough  to  enable  us  to  mark  the 
general  shape  of  objects.  Presently  a  muffled 
sound  caught  our  ears,  and  we  recognized  it 
as  the  hoof-beats  of  a  horse  or  horses.  And 
right  away  a  figure  appeared  in  the  forest  path; 
it  could  have  been  made  of  smoke,  its  mass 
had  so  little  sharpness  of  outline.  It  was  a 
man  on  horseback;  and  it  seemed  to  me  that 
there  were  others  behind  him.  I  got  hold  of  a 
gun  in  the  dark,  and  pushed  it  through  a  crack 
between  the  logs,  hardly  knowing  what  I  was 
doing,  I  was  so  dazed  with  fright.  Somebody 
said  "  Fire  !  "  I  pulled  the  trigger.  I  seemed 


42  THE    PRIVATE    HISTORY   OF 

to  see  a  hundred  flashes  and  hear  a  hundred 
reports,  then  I  saw  the  man  fall  down  out  of 
the  saddle.  My  first  feeling  was  of  surprised 
gratification;  my  first  impulse  was  an  appren 
tice-sportsman's  impulse  to  run  and  pick  up 
his  game.  Somebody  said,  hardly  audibly, 
"Good — we've  got  him! — wait  for  the  rest." 
But  the  rest  did  not  come.  We  waited  — 
listened — still  no  more  came.  There  was  not 
a  sound,  not  the  whisper  of  a  leaf;  just  per 
fect  stillness;  an  uncanny  kind  of  stillness, 
which  was  all  the  more  uncanny  on  account 
of  the  damp,  earthy,  late-night  smells  now  ris 
ing  and  pervading  it.  Then,  wondering,  we 
crept  stealthily  out,  and  approached  the  man. 
When  we  got  to  him  the  moon  revealed  him 
distinctly.  He  was  lying  on  his  back,  with 
his  arms  abroad;  his  mouth  was  open  and  his 
chest  heaving  with  long  gasps,  and  his  white 
shirt-front  was  all  splashed  with  blood.  The 
thought  shot  through  me  that  I  was  a  mur 
derer;  that  I  had  killed  a  man — a  man  who 
had  never  done  me  any  harm.  That  was  the 
coldest  sensation  that  ever  went  through  my 


A   CAMPAIGN   THAT   FAILED.  43 

marrow.  I  was  down  by  him  in  a  moment, 
helplessly  stroking  his  forehead;  and  I  would 
have  given  anything  then — my  own  life  freely 
— to  make  him  again  what  he  had  been  five 
minutes  before.  And  all  the  boys  seemed  to 
be  feeling  in  the  same  way;  they  hung  over 
him,  full  of  pitying  interest,  and  tried  all  they 
could  to  help  him,  and  said  all  sorts  of  re 
gretful  things.  They  had  forgotten  all  about 
the  enemy  ;  they  thought  only  of  this  one 
forlorn  unit  of  the  foe.  Once  my  imagina 
tion  persuaded  me  that  the  dying  man  gave 
me  a  reproachful  lookout  of  his  shadowy  eyes, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  could  rather  he  had 
stabbed  me  than  done  that.  He  muttered  and 
mumbled  like  a  dreamer  in  his  sleep,  about 
his  wife  and  his  child;  and  I  thought  with  a 
new  despair,  "This  thing  that  I  have  done 
does  not  end  with  him;  it  falls  upon  them  too, 
and  they  never  did  me  any  harm,  any  more 
than  he." 

In  a  little  while  the  man*was  dead.  He  was 
killed  in  war;  killed  in  fair  and  legitimate  war; 
killed  in  battle,  as  you  may  say;  and  yet  he 


44  THE    PRIVATE    HISTORY   OF 

was  as  sincerely  mourned  by  the  opposing 
force  as  if  he  had  been  their  brother.  The 
boys  stood  there  a  half  hour  sorrowing  over 
him,  and  recalling  the  details  of  the  tragedy, 
and  wondering  who  he  might  be,  and  if  he 
were  a  spy,  and  saying  that  if  it  were  to  do 
over  again  they  would  not  hurt  him  unless  he 
attacked  them  first.  It  soon  came  out  that 
mine  was  not  the  only  shot  fired;  there  were 
five  others, — a  division  of  the  guilt  which  was 
a  grateful  relief  to  me,  since  it  in  some  degree 
lightened  and  diminished  the  burden  I  was 
carrying.  There  were  six  shots  fired  at  once; 
but  I  was  not  in  my  right  mind  at  the  time, 
and  my  heated  imagination  had  magnified  my 
one  shot  into  a  volley. 

The  man  was  not  in  uniform,  and  was  not 
armed.  He  was  a  stranger  in  the  country; 
that  was  all  we  ever  found  out  about  him. 
The  thought  of  him  got  to  preying  upon  me 
every  night;  I  could  not  get  rid  of  it.  I  could 
not  drive  it  away,  the  taking  of  that  unoffend 
ing  life  seemed  such  a  wanton  thing.  And  it 
seemed  an  epitome  of  war;  that  all  war  must 


A   CAMPAIGN    THAT   FAILED.  45 

be  just  that — the  killing  of  strangers  against 
whom  you  feel  no  personal  animosity;  stran 
gers  whom,  in  other  circumstances,  you  would 
help  if  you  found  them  in  trouble,  and  who 
would  help  you  if  you  needed  it.  My  cam 
paign  was  spoiled.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I 
was  not  rightly  equipped  for  this  awful  busi 
ness;  that  war  was  intended  for  men,  and  I 
for  a  child's  nurse.  I  resolved  to  retire  from 
this  avocation  of  sham  soldiership  while  I 
could  save  some  remnant  of  my  self-respect. 
These  morbid  thoughts  clung  to  me  against 
reason;  for  at  bottom  I  did  not  believe  I  had 
touched  that  man.  The  law  of  probabilities 
decreed  me  guiltless  of  his  blood;  for  in  all 
my  small  experience  with  guns  I  had  never 
hit  anything  I  had  tried  to  hit,  and  I  knew  I 
had  done  my  best  to  hit  him.  Yet  there  was 
no  solace  in  the  thought.  Against  a  diseased 
imagination,  demonstration  goes  for  nothing. 

The  rest  of  my  war  experience  was  of  a 
piece  with  what  I  have  already  told  of  it.  We 
kept  monotonously  falling  back  upon  one 
camp  or  another,  and  eating  up  the  country. 


46  THE   PRIVATE    HISTORY    OF 

I  marvel  now  at  the  patience  of  the  farmers 
and  their  families.  They  ought  to  have  shot 
us;  on  the  contrary,  they  were  as  hospitably 
kind  and  courteous  to  us  as  if  we  had  de 
served  it.  In  one  of  these  camps  we  found  Ab 
Grimes,  an  Upper  Mississippi  pilot,  who  after 
wards  became  famous  as  a  dare-devil  rebel 
spy,  whose  career  bristled  with  desperate  ad 
ventures.  The  look  and  style  of  his  comrades 
suggested  that  they  had  not  come  into  the  war 
to  play,  and  their  deeds  made  good  the  con 
jecture  later.  They  were  fine  horsemen  and 
good  revolver-shots  ;  but  their  favorite  arm 
was  the  lasso.  Each  had  one  at  his  pommel, 
and  could  snatch  a  man  out  of  the  saddle  with 
it  every  time,  on  a  full  gallop,  at  any  reason 
able  distance. 

In  another  camp  the  chief  was  a  fierce  and 
profane  old  blacksmith  of  sixty,  and  he  had 
furnished  his  twenty  recruits  with  gigantic 
home-made  bowie-knives,  to  be  swung  with 
the  two  hands,  like  the  machetes  of  the  Isth 
mus.  It  was  a  grisly  spectacle  to  see  that 
earnest  band  practicing  their  murderous  cuts 


A   CAMPAIGN   THAT   FAILED.  47 

and  slashes  under  the  eye  of  that  remorseless 
old  fanatic. 

The  last  camp  which  we  fell  back  upon  was 
in  a  hollow  near  the  village  of  Florida,  where 
I  was  born — in  Monroe  County.  Here  we 
were  warned,  one  day,  that  a  Union  colonel 
was  sweeping  down  on  us  with  a  whole  regi 
ment  at  his  heels.  This  looked  decidedly  se 
rious.  Our  boys  went  apart  and  consulted; 
then  we  went  back  and  told  the  other  com 
panies  present  that  the  war  was  a  disappoint 
ment  to  us  and  we  were  going  to  disband. 
They  were  getting  ready,  themselves,  to  fall 
back  on  some  place  or  other,  and  were  only 
waiting  for  General  Tom  Harris,  who  was  ex 
pected  to  arrive  at  any  moment;  so  they  tried 
to  persuade  us  to  wait  a  little  while,  but  the 
majority  of  us  said  no,  we  were  accustomed  to 
falling  back,  and  didn't  need  any  of  Tom  Har 
ris's  help;  we  could  get  along  perfectly  well 
without  him — and  save  time  too.  So  about 
half  of  our  fifteen,  including  myself,  mounted 
and  left  on  the  instant;  the  others  yielded  to 
persuasion  and  staid — staid  through  the  war. 


48  THE    PRIVATE    HISTORY    OF 

An  hour  later  we  met  General  Harris  on  the 
road,  with  two  or  three  people  in  his  company 
—his  staff,  probably,  but  we  could  not  tell; 
none  of  them  were  in  uniform;  uniforms  had 
not  come  into  vogue  among  us  yet.  Harris 
ordered  us  back;  but  we  told  him  there  was  a 
Union  colonel  coming  with  a  whole  regiment 
in  his  wake,  and  it  looked  as  if  there  was  go 
ing  to  be  a  disturbance;  so  we  had  concluded 
to  go  home.  He  raged  a  little,  but  it  was  of 
no  use;  our  minds  were  made  up.  We  had 
done  our  share;  had  killed  one  man,  exter 
minated  one  army,  such  as  it  was;  let  him  go 
and  kill  the  rest,  and  that  would  end  the  war. 
I  did  not  see  that  brisk  young  general  again 
until  last  year;  then  he  was  wearing  white  hair 
and  whiskers. 

In  time  I  came  to  know  that  Union  colonel 
whose  coming  frightened  me  out  of  the  war 
and  crippled  the  Southern  cause  to  that  extent 
—General  Grant.  I  came  within  a  few  hours 
of  seeing  him  when  he  was  as  unknown  as  I 
was  myself;  at  a  time  when  anybody  could 
have  said,  "  Grant  ?— Ulysses  S.  Grant?  I  do 


A   CAMPAIGN   THAT    FAILED.  49 

not  remember  hearing  the  name  before."  It 
seems  difficult  to  realize  that  there  was  once  a 
time  when  such  a  remark  could  be  rationally 
made;  but  there  was,  and  I  was  within  a  few 
miles  of  the  place  and  the  occasion  too,  though 
proceeding  in  the  other  direction. 

The  thoughtful  will  not  throw  this  war-pa 
per  of  mine  lightly  aside  as  being  valueless. 
It  has  this  value:  it  is  a  not  unfair  picture  of 
what  went  on  in  many  and  many  a  militia 
camp  in  the  first  months  of  the  rebellion,  when 
the  green  recruits  were  without  discipline, 
without  the  steadying  and  heartening  influ 
ence  of  trained  leaders;  when  all  their  circum 
stances  were  new  and  strange,  and  charged 
with  exaggerated  terrors,  and  before  the  in 
valuable  experience  of  actual  collision  in  the 
field  had  turned  them  from  rabbits  into  soldiers. 
If  this  side  of  the  picture  of  that  early  day  has 
not  before  been  put  into  history,  then  history 
has  been  to  that  degree  incomplete,  for  it  had 
and  has  its  rightful  place  there.  There  was 
more  Bull  Run  material  scattered  through  the 
early  camps  of  this  country  than  exhibited 


50  A   CAMPAIGN   THAT   FAILED. 

itself  at  Bull  Run.  And  yet  it  learned  its 
trade  presently,  and  helped  to  fight  the  great 
battles  later.  I  could  have  become  a  soldier 
myself,  if  I  had  waited.  I  had  got  part  of  it 
learned ;  I  knew  more  about  retreating  than 
the  man  that  invented  retreating. 


THE  INVALID'S  STORY. 

I  SEEM  sixty  and  married,  but  these  effects 
are  due  to  my  condition  and  sufferings, 
for  I  am  a  bachelor,  and  only  forty-one.  It 
will  be  hard  for  you  to  believe  that  I,  who  am 
now  but  a  shadow,  was  a  hale,  hearty  man  two 
short  years  ago, — a  man  of  iron,  a  very  athlete! 
— yet  such  is  the  simple  truth.  But  stranger 
still  than  this  fact  is  the  way  in  which  I  lost 
my  health.  I  lost  it  through  helping  to  take 
care  of  a  box  of  guns  on  a  two-hundred-mile 
railway  journey  one  winter's  night.  It  is  the 
actual  truth,  and  I  will  tell  you  about  it. 

I  belong  in  Cleveland,  Ohio.  One  winter's 
night,  two  years  ago,  I  reached  home  just  after 
dark,  in  a  driving  snow-storm,  and  the  first 
thing  I  heard  when  I  entered  the  house  was 
that  my  dearest  boyhood  friend  and  school 
mate,  John  B.  Hackett,  had  died  the  day  be 
fore,  and  that  his  last  utterance  had  been  a 
51 


52  THE  INVALID'S  STORY. 

desire  that  I  would  take  his  remains  home  to 
his  poor  old  father  and  mother  in  Wisconsin. 
I  was  greatly  shocked  and  grieved,  but  there 
was  no  time  to  waste  in  emotions;  I  must  start 
at  once.  I  took  the  card,  marked  "  Deacon 
Levi  Hackett,  Bethlehem,  Wisconsin,"  and 
hurried  off  through  the  whistling  storm  to  the 
railway  station.  Arrived  there  I  found  the 
long  white-pine  box  which  had  been  described 
to  me;  I  fastened  the  card  to  it  with  some 
tacks,  saw  it  put  safely  aboard  the  express  car, 
and  then  ran  into  the  eating-room  to  provide 
myself  with  a  sandwich  and  some  cigars. 
When  I  returned,  presently,  there  was  my 
coffin-box  back  again,  apparently,  and  a  young 
fellow  examining  around  it,  with  a  card  in  his 
hand,  and  some  tacks  and  a  hammer !  I  was 
astonished  and  puzzled.  He  began  to  nail  on 
his  card,  and  I  rushed  out  to  the  express  car, 
in  a  good  deal  of  a  state  of  mind,  to  ask  for  an 
explanation.  But  no — there  was  my  box,  all 
right,  in  the  express  car;  it  hadn't  been  dis 
turbed.  [The  fact  is  that  without  my  suspect 
ing  it  a  prodigious  mistake  had  been  made.  I 


THE   INVALID'S   STORY.  53 

was  carrying  off  a  box  of  guns  which  that 
young  fellow  had  come  to  the  station  to  ship 
to  a  rifle  company  in  Peoria,  Illinois,  and  he 
had  got  my  corpse  !]  Just  then  the  conductor 
sung  out  "  All  aboard,"  and  I  jumped  into  the 
express  car  and  got  a  comfortable  seat  on  a 
bale  of  buckets.  The  expressman  was  there, 
hard  at  work, — a  plain  man  of  fifty,  with  a 
simple,  honest,  good  -  natured  face,  and  a 
breezy,  practical  heartiness  in  his  general  style. 
As  the  train  moved  off  a  stranger  skipped  into 
the  car  and  set  a  package  of  peculiarly  mature 
and  capable  Limburger  cheese  on  one  end  of 
my  coffin-box — I  mean  my  box  of  guns.  That 
is  to  say,  I  know  now  that  it  was  Limburger 
cheese,  but  at  that  time  I  never  had  heard  of 
the  article  in  my  life,  and  of  course  was  wholly 
ignorant  of  its  character.  Well,  we  sped 
through  the  wild  night,  the  bitter  storm  raged 
on,  a  cheerless  misery  stole  over  me,  my  heart 
went  down,  down,  down  !  The  old  express 
man  made  a  brisk  remark  or  two  about  the 
tempest  and  the  arctic  weather,  slammed  his 
sliding  doors  to,  and  bolted  them,  closed  his 


54  THE  INVALID'S  STORY. 

window  down  tight,  and  then  went  bustling 
around,  here  and  there  and  yonder,  setting 
things  to  rights,  and  all  the  time  contentedly 
humming  "  Sweet  By  and  By,"  in  a  low  tone, 
and  flatting  a  good  deal.  Presently  I  began 
to  detect  a  most  evil  and  searching  odor  steal 
ing  about  on  the  frozen  air.  This  depressed  my 
spirits  still  more,  because  of  course  I  attribut 
ed  it  to  my  poor  departed  friend.  There  was 
something  infinitely  saddening  about  his  call 
ing  himself  to  my  remembrance  in  this  dumb 
pathetic  way,  so  it  was  hard  to  keep  the  tears 
back.  Moreover,  it  distressed  me  on  account 
of  the  old  expressman,  who,  I  was  afraid, 
might  notice  it.  However,  he  went  humming 
tranquilly  on,  and  gave  no  sign;  and  for  this 
I  was  grateful.  Grateful,  yes,  but  still  uneasy; 
and  soon  I  began  to  feel  more  and  more  un 
easy  every  minute,  for  every  minute  that  went 
by  that  odor  thickened  up  the  more,  and  got  to 
be  more  and  more  gamey  and  hard  to  stand. 
Presently,  having  got  things  arranged  to  his 
satisfaction,  the  expressman  got  some  wood 
and  made  up  a  tremendous  fire  in  his  stove. 


THE  INVALID'S  STORY. 

This  distressed  me  more  than  I  can  tell,  for  I 
could  not  but  feel  that  it  was  a  mistake.  I  was 
sure  that  the  effect  would  be  deleterious  upon 
my  poor  departed  friend.  Thompson  —  the 
expressman's  name  was  Thompson,  as  I  found 
out  in  the  course  of  the  night — now  went  pok 
ing  around  his  car,  stopping  up  whatever  stray 
cracks  he  could  find,  remarking  that  it  didn't 
make  any  difference  what  kind  of  a  night  it 
was  outside,  he  calculated  to  make  us  comfort 
able,  anyway.  I  said  nothing,  but  I  believed 
he  was  not  choosing  the  right  way.  Meantime 
he  was  humming  to  himself  just  as  before;  and 
meantime,  too,  the  stove  was  getting  hotter 
and  hotter,  and  the  place  closer  and  closer.  I 
felt  myself  growing  pale  and  qualmish,  but 
grieved  in  silence  and  said  nothing.  Soon  I 
noticed  that  the  "  Sweet  By  and  By"  was  grad 
ually  fading  out;  next  it  ceased  altogether, 
and  there  was  an  ominous  stillness.  After  a 
few  moments  Thompson  said,— 

"  Pfew  !  I  reckon  it  ain't  no  cinnamon  't  I've 
loaded  up  thish-yer  stove  with  !  " 

He  gasped  once  or  twice,  then  moved  toward 


56  THE    INVALID'S   STORY. 

the  cof — gun-box,  stood  over  that  Limburger 
cheese  part  of  a  moment,  then  came  back  and 
sat  down  near  me,  looking  a  good  deal  im 
pressed.  After  a  contemplative  pause,  he  said, 
indicating  the  box  with  a  gesture,— 

"  Friend  of  yourn  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said  with  a  sigh. 

"  He's  pretty  ripe,  aint  he  !  " 

Nothing  further  was  said  for  perhaps  a  cou 
ple  of  minutes,  each  being  busy  with  his  own 
thoughts  ;  then  Thompson  said,  in  a  low,  awed 
voice,— 

''Sometimes  it's  uncertain  whether  they're 
really  gone  or  not, — seem  gone,  you  know- 
body  warm,  joints  limber — and  so,  although 
you  think  they're  gone,  you  don't  really  know. 
I've  had  cases  in  my  car.  It's  perfectly  aw 
ful,  becuz  you  don't  know  what  rninute  they'll 
rise  up  and  look  at  you  !  "  Then,  after  a  pause, 
and  slightly  lifting  his  elbow  toward  the  box,— 
"  But  he  ain't  in  no  trance  !  No,  sir,  I  go  bail 
for  him  !  " 

We  sat  some  time,  in  meditative  silence,  lis 
tening  to  the  wind  and  the  roar  of  the  train; 


THE  INVALID'S  STORY.  57 

then  Thompson  said,  with  a  good  deal  of  feel 
ing,— 

"  Well-a-well,  we've  all  got  to  go,  they  ain't 
no  getting  around  it.  Man  that  is  born  of  wo 
man  is  of  few  days  and  far  between,  as  Scrip- 
tur'  says.  Yes,  you  look  at  it  any  way  you 
want  to,  it's  awful  solemn  and  cur'us  :  they 
ain't  nobody  can  get  around  it  ;  all's  got  to  go 
—just  everybody,  as  you  may  say.  One  day 
you're  hearty  and  strong" — here  he  scrambled 
to  his  feet  and  broke  a  pane  and  stretched  his 
nose  out  at  it  a  moment  or  two,  then  sat  down 
again  while  I  struggled  up  and  thrust  my  nose 
out  at  the  same  place,  and  this  we  kept  on  do 
ing  every  now  and  then — "  and  next  day  he's 
cut  down  like  the  grass,  and  the  places  which 
knowed  him  then  knows  him  no  more  forever, 
as  Scriptur'  says.  Yes'ndeedy,  it's  awful  sol 
emn  and  cur'us  ;  but  we've  all  got  to  go,  one 
time  or  another;  they  ain't  no  getting  around 
it." 

There  was  another  long  pause  ;  then, — 

"What  did  he  die  of?" 

I  said  I  didn't  know. 


58  THE  INVALID'S  STORY. 

"  How  long  has  he  ben  dead  ?  " 

It  seemed  judicious  to  enlarge  the  facts  to  fit 
the  probabilities  ;  so  I  said,— 

"  Two  or  three  days." 

But  it  did  no  good;  for  Thompson  received 
it  with  an  injured  look  which  plainly  said, 
"Two  or  three  years,  you  mean."  Then  he 
went  right  along,  placidly  ignoring  my  state 
ment,  and  gave  his  views  at  considerable 
length  upon  the  unwisdom  of  putting  off  bur 
ials  too  long.  Then  he  lounged  off  toward  the 
box,  stood  a  moment,  then  came  back  on  a 
sharp  trot  and  visited  the  broken  pane,  observ 
ing,— 

"  Twould  'a'  ben  a  .  dum  sight  better,  all 
around,  if  they'd  started  him  along  last  sum 
mer." 

Thompson  sat  down  and  buried  his  face  in 
his  red  silk  handkerchief,  and  began  to  slowly 
sway  and  rock  his  body  like  one  who  is  doing 
his  best  to  endure  the  almost  unendurable.  By 
this  time  the  fragrance — if  you  may  call  it  fra 
grance — was  just  about  suffocating,  as  near  as 
you  can  come  at  it.  Thompson's  face  was  turn- 


THE   INVALID'S   STORY.  59 

ing  gray;  I  knew  mine  hadn't  any  color  left  in  it. 
By  and  by  Thompson  rested  his  forehead  in  his 
left  hand,  with  his  elbow  on  his  knee,  and  sort 
of  waved  his  red  handkerchief  towards  the  box 
with  his  other  hand,  and  said,— 

"  I've  carried  a  many  a  one  of 'em, — some  of 
'em  considerable  overdue,  too, — but,  lordy,  he 
just  lays  over  'em  all  ! — and  does  it  easy. 
Cap.,  they  was  heliotrope  to  him  /  " 

This  recognition  of  my  poor  friend  gratified 
me,  in  spite  of  the  sad  circumstances,  because 
it  had  so  much  the  sound  of  a  compliment. 

Pretty  soon  it  was  plain  that  something  had 
got  to  be  done.  I  suggested  cigars.  Thomp 
son  thought  it  was  a  good  idea.  He  said, — 

"  Likely  it'll  modify  him  some." 

We  puffed  gingerly  along  for  a  while,  and 
tried  hard  to  imagine  that  things  were  im 
proved.  But  it  wasn't  any  use.  Before  very 
long,  and  without  any  consultation,  both  cigars 
were  quietly  dropped  from  our  nerveless  fingers 
at  the  same  moment.  Thompson  said,  with  a 
sigh,— 

"  No,  Cap.,  it  don't  modify  him  worth  a  cent. 


6o  THE  INVALID'S  STORY. 

Fact  is,  it  makes  him  worse,  becuz  it  appears 
to  stir  up  his  ambition.  What  do  you  reckon 
we  better  do,  now  ?  " 

I  was  not  able  to  suggest  anything;  indeed, 
I  had  to  be  swallowing  and  swallowing,  all  the 
time,  and  did  not  like  to  trust  myself  to  speak. 
Thompson  fell  to  maundering,  in  a  desultory 
and  low-spirited  way,  about  the  miserable  ex 
periences  of  this  night;  and  he  got  to  referring 
to  my  poor  friend  by  various  titles, — some 
times  military  ones,  sometimes  civil  ones;  and 
I  noticed  that  as  fast  as  my  poor  friend's 
effectiveness  grew,  Thompson  promoted  him 
accordingly, — gave  him  a  bigger  title.  Finally 
he  said,— 

"  I've  got  an  idea.  Suppos'n  we  buckle 
down  to  it  and  give  the  Colonel  a  bit  of  a  shove 
towards  t'other  end  of  the  car  ? — about  ten  foot, 
say.  He  wouldn't  have  so  much  influence, 
then,  don't  you  reckon  ?  " 

I  said  it  was  a  good  scheme.  So  we  took  in 
a  good  fresh  breath  at  the  broken  pane,  calcu 
lating  to  hold  it  till  we  got  through;  then  we 
went  there  and  bent  over  that  deadly  cheese 


THE   INVALID'S   STORY.  6l 

and  took  a  grip  on  the  box.  Thompson  nod 
ded  "  All  ready,"  and  then  we  threw  ourselves 
forward  with  all  our  might;  but  Thompson 
slipped,  and  slumped  down  with  his  nose  on 
the  cheese,  and  his  breath  got  loose.  He 
gagged  and  gasped,  and  floundered  up  and 
made  a  break  for  the  door,  pawing  the  air  and 
saying,  hoarsely,  "  Don't  hender  me  !— gimme 
the  road!  I'm  a-dying;  gimme  the  road!" 
Out  on  the  cold  platform  I  sat  down  and  held 
his  head  a  while,  and  he  revived.  Presently  he 
said, — 

"  Do  you  reckon  we  started  the  Gen'rul 
any  ? " 

I  said  no;  we  hadn't  budged  him. 

"Well,  then,  that  idea's  up  the  flume.  We 
got  to  think  up  something  else.  He's  suited 
wher'  he  is,  I  reckon  ;  and  if  that's  the  way  he 
feels  about  it,  and  has  made  up  his  mind  that 
he  don't  wish  to  be  disturbed,  you  bet  he's 
a-going  to  have  his  own  way  in  the  business. 
Yes,  better  leave  him  right  wher'  he  is,  long  as 
he  wants  it  so  ;  becuz  he  holds  all  the  trumps, 
don't  you  know,  and -so  it  stands  to  reason 


TTP-  Tr;frr 


^TITT  -ft"**  fi-. 

nrrsir 

^rr«j  JTT    £r  ~v^  ~w=* 
~~^  ~-~  ~     ~  '- '~  L  -~r- ~  : i  T'er^  "r^  i 

-    " "  " 

— 

*  W-i  r^  iZ  riric  nrv  "      I 


-  ~jr± 

e  i£  TTTTT, 


i 


r    ir  jim^ 
x:  -rrr-r    ^mr  -; 
Tr*g>  iir 

—  -*:r      ^-"  -  :-i;£  j 


•^  ian  - 


THE  INVALID'S  STORY.  63 

He  just  utilizes  everything  we  put  up  to  modify 
him  with,  and  gives  it  his  own  flavor  and  plays 
it  back  on  us.  Why,  Cap.,  don't  you  know,  it's 
as  much  as  a  hundred  times  worse  in  there  now 
than  it  was  when  he  first  got  a-going.  I  never 
did  see  one  of  'em  warm  up  to  his  work  so,  and 
take  such  a  dumnation  interest  in  it.  Xo,  sir, 
I  never  did,  as  long  as  I've  ben  on  the  road ; 
and  I've  carried  a  many  a  one  of  'em,  as  I  was 
telling  you." 

We  went  in  ag-ain,  after  we  were  frozen 
pretty  stiff;  but  my,  we  couldn't  star  in,  now. 
So  we  just  waltzed  back  and  forth,  freezing, 
and  thawing,  and  stifling,  by  turns.  In  about 
an  hour  we  stopped  at  another  station  ;  and  as 
we  left  it  Thompson  came  in  with  a  bag,  and 
said, — 

"  Cap.,  I'm  a-going  to  chance  him  once 
more, — just  this  once;  and  if  we  don't  fetch  him 
this  time,  the  thing  for  us  to  do,  is  to  just  throw 
up  the  sponge  and  withdraw  from  the  canvass. 
That's  the  way  /  put  it  up." 

He  had  brought  a  lot  of  chicken  feathers, 
and  dried  apples,  and  leaf  tobacco,  and  rags. 


64  THE  INVALID'S  STORY. 

and  old  shoes,  and  sulphur,  and  assafoetida, 
and  one  thing  or  another  ;  and  he  piled  them 
on  a  breadth  of  sheet  iron  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  and  set  fire  to  them.  When  they  got 
well  started,  I  couldn't  see,  myself,  how  even 
the  corpse  could  stand  it.  All  that  went  be 
fore  was  just  simply  poetry  to  that  smell,— but 
mind  you,  the  original  smell  stood  up  out  of  it 
just  as  sublime  as  ever,— fact  is,  these  other 
smells  just  seemed  to  give  it  a  better  hold  ; 
and  my,  how  rich  it  was  !  I  didn't  make  these 
reflections  there  —  there  wasn't  time  —  made 
them  on  the  platform.  And  breaking  for  the 
platform,  Thompson  got  suffocated  and  fell ; 
and  before  I  got  him  dragged  out,  which  I  did 
by  the  collar,  I  was  mighty  near  gone  myself. 
When  we  revived,  Thompson  said  deject- 
edly,- 

"  We  got  to  stay  out  here,  Cap.  We  got  to 
do  it.  They  ain't  no  other  way.  The  Govern 
or  wants  to  travel  alone,  and  he's  fixed  so  he 
can  outvote  us." 

And  presently  he  added, — 

"  And  don't  you  know,  we're  pisoned.     It's 


THE  INVALID'S  STORY.  65 

our  last  trip,  you  can  make  up  your  mind  to  it. 
Typhoid  fever  is  what's  going  to  come  of  this. 
I  feel  it  a-coming  right  now.  Yes,  sir,  we're 
elected,  just  as  sure  as  you're  born." 

We  were  taken  from  the  platform  an  hour 
later,  frozen  and  insensible,  at  the  next  station, 
and  I  went  straight  off  into  a  virulent  fever, 
and  never  knew  anything  again  for  three  weeks. 
I  found  out,  then,  that  I  had  spent  that  awful 
night  with  a  harmless  box  of  rifles  and  a  lot  of 
innocent  cheese  ;  but  the  news  was  too  late  to 
save  me;  imagination  had  done  its  work,  and 
my  health  was  permanently  shattered;  neither 
Bermuda  nor  any  other  land  can  ever  bring  it 
back  to  me.  This  is  my  last  trip;  I  am  on  my 
way  home  to  die. 


LUCK. 

T  T  was  at  a  banquet  in  London  in  honor  of 
-*-  one  of  the  two  or  three  conspicuously  il 
lustrious  English  military  names  of  this  gener 
ation.  For  reasons  which  will  presently  ap 
pear,  I  will  withhold  his  real  name  and  titles, 
and  call  him  Lieutenant-General  Lord  Arthur 
Scoresby,  Y.C.,  K.C.B.,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.  What  a 
fascination  there  is  in  a  renowned  name  !  There 
sat  the  man,  in  actual  flesh,  whom  I  had  heard 
of  so  many  thousands  of  times  since  that  day, 
thirty  years  before,  when  his  name  shot  sud 
denly  to  the  zenith  from  a  Crimean  battle-field, 
to  remain  forever  celebrated.  It  was  food  and 
drink  to  me  to  look,  and  look,  and  look  at  that 
demigod;  scanning,  searching,  noting:  the 
quietness,  the  reserve,  the  noble  gravity  of  his 
countenance;  the  simple  honesty  that  ex- 

[NoTE. — This  is  not  a  fancy  sketch.  I  got  it  from  a 
clergyman  who  was  an  instructor  at  Woolwich  forty  years 
ago,  and  who  vouched  for  its  truth. — M.  T.] 

66 


LUCK.  67 

pressed  itself  all  over  him;  the  sweet  uncon 
sciousness  of  his  greatness — unconsciousness  of 
the  hundreds  of  admiring  eyes  fastened  upon 
him,  unconsciousness  of  the  deep,  loving, 
sincere  worship  welling  out  of  the  breasts  of 
those  people  and  flowing  toward  him. 

The  clergyman  at  my  left  was  an  old  ac 
quaintance  of  mine — clergyman  now,  but  had 
spent  the  first  half  of  his  life  in  the  camp  and 
field,  and  as  an  instructor  in  the  military 
school  at  Woolwich.  Just  at  the  moment  I 
have  been  talking  about,  a  veiled  and  singular 
light  glimmered  in  his  eyes,  and  he  leaned 
down  and  muttered  confidentially  to  me — in 
dicating  the  hero  of  the  banquet  with  a  ges 
ture, — 

"  Privately — he's  an  absolute  fool." 
This  verdict  was  a  great  surprise  to  me.  If 
its  subject  had  been  Napoleon,  or  Socrates,  or 
Solomon,  my  astonishment  could  not  have 
been  greater.  Two  things  I  was  well  aware 
of:  that  the  Reverend  was  a  man  of  strict 
veracity,  and  that  his  judgment  of  men  was 
good.  Therefore  I  knew,  beyond  doubt  or 


68  LUCK. 

question,  that  the  world  was  mistaken  about 
this  hero:  he  was  a  fool.  So  I  meant  to  find 
out,  at  a  convenient  moment,  how  the  Rev 
erend,  all  solitary  and  alone,  had  discovered 
the  secret. 

Some  days  later  the  opportunity  came,  and 
this  is  what  the  Reverend  told  me: 

About  forty  years  ago  I  was  an  instructor  in 
the  military  academy  at  Woolwich.  I  was 
present  in  one  of  the  sections  when  young 
Scoresby  underwent  his  preliminary  examina 
tion.  I  was  touched  to  the  quick  with  pity; 
for  the  rest  of  the  class  answered  up  brightly 
and  handsomely,  while  he — why,  dear  me,  he 
didn't  know  anything,  so  to  speak.  He  was 
evidently  good,  and  sweet,  and  lovable,  and 
guileless;  and  so  it  was  exceedingly  painful  to 
see  him  stand  there,  as  serene  as  a  graven 
image,  and  deliver  himself  of  answers  which 
were  veritably  miraculous  for  stupidity  and 
ignorance.  All  the  compassion  in  me  was 
aroused  in  his  behalf.  I  said  to  myself,  when 
he  comes  to  be  examined  again,  he  will  be 


LUCK.  69 

flung  over,  of  course;  so  it  will  be  simply  a 
harmless  act  of  charity  to  ease  his  fall  as  much 
as  I  can.  I  took  him  aside,  and  found  that  he 
knew  a  little  of  Caesar's  history;  and  as  he 
didn't  know  anything  else,  I  went  to  work  and 
drilled  him  like  a  galley-slave  on  a  certain  line 
of  stock  questions  concerning  Caesar  which  I 
knew  would  be  used.  If  you'll  believe  me,  he 
went  through  with  flying  colors  on  examina 
tion  day  !  He  went  through  on  that  purely 
superficial  "  cram,"  and  got  compliments  too, 
while  others,  who  knew  a  thousand  times  more 
than  he,  got  plucked.  By  some  strangely 
lucky  accident — an  accident  not  likely  to  hap 
pen  twice  in  a  century — he  was  asked  no  ques 
tion  outside  of  the  narrow  limits  of  his  drill. 

It  was  stupefying.  Well,  all  through  his 
course  I  stood  by  him,  with  something  of  the 
sentiment  which  a  mother  feels  for  a  crippled 
child;  and  he  always  saved  himself — just  by 
miracle,  apparently. 

Now  of  course  the  thing  that  would  expose 
him  and  kill  him  at  last  was  mathematics.  I 
resolved  to  make  his  death  as  easy  as  I  could; 


70  LUCK. 

so  I  drilled  him  and  crammed  him,  and  cram 
med  him  and  drilled  him,  just  on  the  line  of 
questions  which  the  examiners  would  be  most 
likely  to  use,  and  then  launched  him  on  his 
fate.  Well,  sir,  try  to  conceive  of  the  result: 
to  my  consternation,  he  took  the  first  prize  ! 
And  with  it  he  got  a  perfect  ovation  in  the 
way  of  compliments. 

Sleep  ?  There  was  no  more  sleep  for  me  for 
a  week.  My  conscience  tortured  me  day  and 
night.  What  I  had  done  I  had  done  purely 
through  chanty,  and  only  to  ease  the  poor 
youth's  fall — I  never  had  dreamed  of  any  such 
preposterous  result  as  the  thing  that  had  hap 
pened.  I  felt  as  guilty  and  miserable  as  the 
creator  of  Frankenstein.  Here  was  a  wooden- 
head  whom  I  had  put  in  the  way  of  glittering 
promotions  and  prodigious  responsibilities,  and 
but  one  thing  could  happen:  he  and  his  re 
sponsibilities  would  all  go  to  ruin  together  at 
the  first  opportunity. 

The  Crimean  war  had  just  broken  out.  Of 
course  there  had  to  be  a  war,  I  said  to  myself: 
we  couldn't  have  peace  and  give  this  donkey  a 


LUCK.  71 

chance  to  die  before  he  is  found  out.  I  waited 
for  the  earthquake.  It  came.  And  it  made 
me  reel  when  it  did  come.  He  was  actually 
gazetted  to  a  captaincy  in  a  marching  regi 
ment  !  Better  men  grow  old  and  gray  in  the 
service  before  they  climb  to  a  sublimity  like 
that.  And  who  could  ever  have  foreseen  that 
they  would  go  and  put  such  a  load  of  respon 
sibility  on  such  green  and  inadequate  shoul 
ders  ?  I  could  just  barely  have  stood  it  if 
they  had  made  him  a  cornet;  but  a  captain 
—think  of  it!  I  thought  my  hair  would  turn 
white. 

Consider  what  I  did — I  who  so  loved  repose 
and  inaction.  I  said  to  myself,  I  am  respon 
sible  to  the  country  for  this,  and  I  must  go 
along  with  him  and  protect  the  country  against 
him  as  far  as  I  can.  So  I  took  my  poor  little 
capital  that  I  had  saved  up  through  years  of 
work  and  grinding  economy,  and  went  with  a 
sigh  and  bought  a  cornetcy  in  his  regiment, 
and  away  we  went  to  the  field. 

And  there — oh  dear,  it  was  awful.  Blun 
ders  ? — why,  he  never  did  anything  but  blun- 


72  LUCK. 

der.  But,  you  see,  nobody  was  in  the  fellow's 
secret— everybody  had  him  focussed  wrong, 
and  necessarily  misinterpreted  his  performance 
every  time — consequently  they  took  his  idiotic 
blunders  for  inspirations  of  genius;  they  did, 
honestly  !  His  mildest  blunders  were  enough 
to  make  a  man  in  his  right  mind  cry;  and  they 
did  make  me  cry — and  rage  and  rave  too, 
privately.  And  the  thing  that  kept  me  always 
in  a  sweat  of  apprehension  was  the  fact  that 
every  fresh  blunder  he  made  increased  the 
lustre  of  his  reputation  !  I  kept  saying  to  my 
self,  he'll  get  so  high,  that  when  discovery 
does  finally  come,  it  will  be  like  the  sun  falling 
out  of  the  sky. 

He  went  right  along  up,  from  grade  to  grade, 
over  the  dead  bodies  of  his  superiors,  until  at 
last,  in  the  hottest  moment  of  the  battle  of 
*  *  *  *  down  went  our  colonel,  and  my  heart 
jumped  into  my  mouth,  for  Scoresby  was  next 
in  rank  !  Now  for  it,  said  I;  we'll  all  land  in 
Sheol  in  ten  minutes,  sure. 

The  battle  was  awfully  hot;  the  allies  were 
steadily  giving  way  all  over  the  field.  Our 


LUCK.  73 

regiment  occupied  a  position  that  was  vital;  a 
blunder  now  must  be  destruction.  At  this 
crucial  moment,  what  does  this  immortal  fool 
do  but  detach  the  regiment  from  its  place  and 
order  a  charge  over  a  neighboring  hill  where 
there  wasn't  a  suggestion  of  an  enemy  !  "There 
you  go  !  "  I  said  to  myself;  "this  is  the  end  at 
last." 

And  away  we  did  go,  and  were  over  the 
shoulder  of  the  hill  before  the  insane  move 
ment  could  be  discovered  and  stopped.  And 
what  did  we  find  ?  An  entire  and  unsuspected 
Russian  army  in  reserve  !  And  what  happen 
ed  ?  We  were  eaten  up  ?  That  is  necessarily 
what  would  have  happened  in  ninety-nine 
cases  out  of  a  hundred.  But  no;  those  Rus 
sians  argued  that  no  single  regiment  would 
come  browsing  around  there  at  such  a  time.  It 
must  be  the  entire  English  army,  and  that  the 
sly  Russian  game  was  detected  and  blocked; 
so  they  turned  tail,  and  away  they  went,  pell- 
mell,  over  the  hill  and  down  into  the  field,  in 
wild  confusion,  and  we  after  them;  they  them 
selves  broke  the  solid  Russian  centre  in  the 


74  LUCK. 

field,  and  tore  through,  and  in  no  time  there 
was  the  most  tremendous  rout  you  ever  saw, 
and  the  defeat  of  the  allies  was  turned  into  a 
sweeping  and  splendid  victory  !  Marshal  Can- 
robert  looked  on,  dizzy  with  astonishment,  ad 
miration,  and  delight;  and  sent  right  off  for 
Scoresby,  and  hugged  him,  and  decorated  him 
on  the  field,  in  presence  of  all  the  armies  ! 

And  what  was  Scoresby's  blunder  that  time? 
Merely  the  mistaking  his  right  hand  for  his 
left — that  was  all.  An  order  had  come  to  him 
to  fall  back  and  support  our  right;  and  instead, 
he  fell  forward  and  went  over  the  hill  to  the 
left.  But  the  name  he  won  that  day  as  a  mar 
vellous  military  genius  filled  the  world  with  his 
glory,  and  that  glory  will  never  fade  while  his 
tory  books  last. 

He  is  just  as  good  and  sweet  and  lovable  and 
unpretending  as  a  man  can  be,  but  he  doesn't 
know  enough  to  come  in  when  it  rains.  Now 
that  is  absolutely  true.  He  is  the  supremest 
ass  in  the  universe;  and  until  half  an  hour  ago 
nobody  knew  it  but  himself  and  me.  He  has 
been  pursued,  day  by  day  and  year  by  year,  by 


LUCK.  75 

a  most  phenomenal  and  astonishing  luckiness. 
He  has  been  a  shining  soldier  in  all  our  wars 
for  a  generation;  he  has  littered  his  whole 
military  life  with  blunders,  and  yet  has  never 
committed  one  that  didn't  make  him  a  knight 
or  a  baronet  or  a  lord  or  something.  Look  at 
his  breast;  why,  he  is  just  clothed  in  domestic 
and  foreign"  decorations.  Well,  sir,  every  one 
of  them  is  the  record  of  some  shouting  stupidity 
or  other;  and  taken  together,  they  are  proof 
that  the  very  best  thing  in  all  this  world  that 
can  befall  a  man  is  to  be  born  lucky.  I  say 
again,  as  I  said  at  the  banquet,  Scoresby's  an 
absolute  fool. 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  STORY. 

"^HERE  was  a  good  deal  of  pleasant  gossip 
-*•  about  old  Captain  "Hurricane"  Jones,  of 
the  Pacific  Ocean, — peace  to  his  ashes  !  Two 
or  three  of  us  present  had  known  him;  I,  par 
ticularly  well,  for  I  had  made  four  sea-voyages 
with  him.  He  was  a  very  remarkable  man. 
He  was  born  on  a  ship;  he  picked  up  what 
little  education  he  had  among  his  shipmates; 
he  began  life  in  the  forecastle,  and  climbed 
grade  by  grade  to  the  captaincy.  More  than 
fifty  years  of  his  sixty-five  were  spent  at  sea. 
He  had  sailed  all  oceans,  seen  all  lands,  and 
borrowed  a  tint  from  all  climates.  When  a 
man  has  been  fifty  years  at  sea,  he  necessarily 
knows  nothing  of  men,  nothing  of  the  world 
but  its  surface,  nothing  of  the  world's  thought, 
nothing  of  the  world's  learning  but  its  ABC, 
and  that  blurred  and  distorted  by  the  unfocussed 
lenses  of  an  untrained  mind.  Such  a  man  is 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  STORY.  77 

only  a  gray  and  bearded  child.      That  is  what 
old  Hurricane  Jones  was, — simply  an  innocent, 
lovable  old  infant.     When  his  spirit  was  in  re 
pose  he  was  as  sweet  and  gentle  as  a  girl;  when 
his  wrath  was  up  he  was  a  hurricane  that  made 
his  nickname  seem  tamely  descriptive.       He 
was  formidable  in  a  fight,  for  he  was  of  power 
ful  build  and  dauntless  courage.     He  was  fres 
coed  from  head  to  heel  with  pictures  and  mot 
toes  tattooed  in  red  and  blue  India  ink.     I  was 
with  him   one  voyage  when  he  got  his  last  va 
cant  space    tattooed;    this   vacant   space    was 
around  his  left  ankle.       During  three  days  he 
stumped  about  the  ship  with  his  ankle  bare  and 
swollen,  and  this  legend  gleaming  red  and  an 
gry  out  from  a  clouding  of  India  ink  :   "  Virtue 
is  its  own  R'd."      (There  was  a  lack  of  room.) 
He  was  deeply  and  sincerely  pious,  and  swore 
like  a  fish-woman.       He  considered  swearing 
blameless,  because    sailors   would    not  under 
stand  an  order   unillumined  by  it.      He  was  a 
profound  Biblical  scholar, — that  is,  he  thought 
he  was.      He  believed  everything  in  the  Bible, 
but  he  had  his  own  methods  of  arriving  at  his 


78  THE  CAPTAIN'S  STORY. 

beliefs.  He  was  of  the  "  advanced  "  school  of 
thinkers,  and  applied  natural  laws  to  the  inter 
pretation  of  all  miracles,  somewhat  on  the  plan 
of  the  people  who  make  the  six  days  of  crea 
tion  six  geological  epochs,  and  so  forth.  With 
out  being  aware  of  it,  he  was  a  rather  severe 
satire  on  modern  scientific  religionists.  Such  a 
man  as  I  have  been  describing  is  rabidly  fond 
of  disquisition  and  argument;  one  knows  that 
without  being  told  it. 

One  trip  the  captain  had  a  clergyman  on 
board,  but  did  not  know  he  was  a  clergyman, 
since  the  passenger  list  did  not  betray  the  fact. 
He  took  a  great  liking  to  this  Rev.  Mr.  Peters, 
and  talked  with  him  a  great  deal  :  told  him 
yarns,  gave  him  toothsome  scraps  of  personal 
history,  and  wove  a  glittering  streak  of  profan 
ity  through  his  garrulous  fabric  that  was  re 
freshing  to  a  spirit  weary  of  the  dull  neutrali 
ties  of  undecorated  speech.  One  day  the  cap 
tain  said,  "Peters,  do  you  ever  read  the  Bi 
ble  ? " 

"  Well— yes." 

"  I  judge  it  ain't  often,  by  the  way  you  say 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  STORY.  79 

it.  Now,  you  tackle  it  in  dead  earnest  once, 
and  you'll  find  it'll  pay.  Don't  you  get  dis 
couraged,  but  hang  right  on.  First,  you  won't 
understand  it;  but  by  and  by  things  will  begin 
to  clear  up,  and  then  you  wouldn't  lay  it  down 
to  eat." 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  that  said." 

"  And  it's  so,  too.  There  ain't  a  book  that  be 
gins  with  it.  It  lays  over  'em  all,  Peters. 
There's  some  pretty  tough  things  in  it, — there 
ain't  any  getting  around  that, — but  you  stick 
to  them  and  think  them  out,  and  when  once 
you  get  on  the  inside  everything's  plain  as 
day." 

"  The  miracles,  too,  captain  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir!  the  miracles,  too.  Every  one  of 
them.  Now,  there's  that  business  with  the 
prophets  of  Baal;  like  enough  that  stumped 
you  ? " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  but — " 

"Own  up,  now;  it  stumped  you.  Well,  I 
don't  wonder.  You  hadn't  had  any  experience 
in  ravelling  such  things  out,  and  naturally  it 
was  too  many  for  you.  Would  you  like  to 


8o  THE  CAPTAIN'S  STORY. 

have  me  explain  that  thing  to  you,  and  show 
you  how  to  get  at  the  meat  of  these  matters  ?  " 
"  Indeed,  I  would,  captain,  if  you  don't  mind." 
Then  the  captain  proceeded  as  follows  :  "I'll 
do  it  with  pleasure.  First,  you  see,  I  read  and 
read,  and  thought  and  thought,  till  I  got  to 
understand  what  sort  of  people  they  were  in 
the  old  Bible  times,  and  then  after  that  it  was 
clear  and  easy.  Now,  this  was  the  way  I  put 
it  up,  concerning  Isaac  *  and  the  prophets  of 
Baal.  There  was  some  mighty  sharp  men 
amongst  the  public  characters  of  that  old  an 
cient  day,  and  Isaac  was  one  of  them.  Isaac 
had  his  failings, — plenty  of  them,  too;  it  ain't 
for  me  to  apologize  for  Isaac;  he  played  on  the 
prophets  of  Baal,  and  like  enough  he  was  justi 
fiable,  considering  the  odds  that  was  against 
him.  No,  all  I  say  is,  't  wa'  n't  any  miracle,  and 
that  I'll  show  you  so's  't  you  can  see  it  your 
self. 

"  Well,  times  had  been  getting  rougher  and 
rougher  for  prophets, — that  is,  prophets  of 
Isaac's  denomination.  There  were  four  hun- 

*  This  is  the   captain's  own  mistake. 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  STORY.  81 

dred  and  fifty  prophets  of  Baal  in  the  commu 
nity,  and  only  one  Presbyterian  ;  that  is,  if 
Isaac  was  a  Presbyterian,  which  I  reckon  he 
was,  but  it  don't  say.  Naturally,  the  prophets 
of  Baal  took  all  the  trade.  Isaac  was  pretty 
low-spirited,  I  reckon,  but  he  was  a  good  deal 
of  a  man,  and  no  doubt  he  went  a-prophesying 
around,  letting  on  to  be  doing  a  land-office 
business,  but  't  wa'  n't  any  use;  he  couldn't  run 
any  opposition  to  amount  to  anything.  By 
and  by  things  got  desperate  with  him;  he  sets 
his  head  to  work  and  thinks  it  all  out,  and  then 
what  does  he  do  ?  Why,  he  begins  to  throw 
out  hints  that  the  other  parties  are  this  and 
that  and  t'other, — nothing  very  definite,  may 
be,  but  just  kind  of  undermining  their  reputa 
tion  in  a  quiet  way.  This  made  talk,  of  course, 
and  finally  got  to  the  king.  The  king  asked 
Isaac  what  he  meant  by  his  talk.  Says  Isaac, 
'Oh,  nothing  particular;  only,  can  they  pray 
down  fire  from  heaven  on  an  altar  ?  It  ain't 
much,  maybe,  your  majesty,  only  can  they  do 
it  ?  That's  the  idea.'  So  the  king  was  a  good 
deal  disturbed,  and  he  went  to  the  prophets  of 


82  THE  CAPTAIN'S  STORY. 

Baal,  and  they  said,  pretty  airy,  that  if  he  had 
an  altar  ready,  they  were  ready;  and  they  in 
timated  he  better  get  it  insured,  too. 

"  So  next  morning  all  the  children  of  Israel 
and  their  parents  and  the  other  people  gather 
ed  themselves  together.  Well,  here  was  that 
great  crowd  of  prophets  of  Baal  packed  to 
gether  on  one  side,  and  Isaac  walking  up  and 
down  all  alone  on  the  other,  putting  up  his 
job.  When  time  was  called,  Isaac  let  on  to  be 
comfortable  and  indifferent  ;  told  the  other 
team  to  take  the  first  innings.  So  they  went 
at  it,  the  whole  four  hundred  and  fifty,  praying 
around  the  altar,  very  hopeful,  and  doing  their 
level  best.  They  prayed  an  hour, — two  hours, 
—three  hours, — and  so  on,  plumb  till  noon.  It 
wa' n't  any  use;  they  had  n't  took  a  trick.  Of 
course  they  felt  kind  of  ashamed  before  all 
those  people,  and  well  they  might.  Now, 
what  would  a  magnanimous  man  do  ?  Keep 
still,  wouldn't  he  ?  Of  course.  What  did 
Isaac  do  ?  He  gravelled  the  prophets  of 
Baal  every  way  he  could  think  of.  Says  he, 
'  You  don't  speak  up  loud  enough;  your  god's 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   STORY.  83 

asleep,  like  enough,  or  may  be  he's  taking  a 
walk;  you  want  to  holler,  you  know,'  — or 
words  to  that  effect;  I  don't  recollect  the  exact 
language.  Mind,  I  don't  apologize  for  Isaac; 
he  had  his  faults. 

"  Well,  the  prophets  of  Baal  prayed  along 
the  best  they  knew  how  all  the  afternoon,  and 
never  raised  a  spark.  At  last,  about  sundown, 
they  were  all  tuckered  out,  and  they  owned  up 
and  quit. 

"  What  does  Isaac  do,  now  ?  He  steps  up 
and  says  to  some  friends  of  his,  there,  '  Pour 
four  barrels  of  water  on  the  altar  ! '  Every 
body  was  astonished;  for  the  other  side  had 
prayed  at  it  dry,  you  know,  and  got  white 
washed.  They  poured  it  on.  Says  he,  '  Heave 
on  four  more  barrels.'  Then  he  says,  '  Heave 
on  four  more.'  Twelve  barrels,  you  see,  alto 
gether.  The  water  ran  all  over  the  altar,  and 
all  down  the  sides,  and  filled  up  a  trench 
around  it  that  would  hold  a  couple  of  hogs 
heads, — 'measures,'  it  says;  I  reckon  it  means 
about  a  hogshead.  Some  of  the  people  were 
going  to  put  on  their  things  and  go,  for  they 


84  THE   CAPTAIN'S   STORY. 

allowed  he  was  crazy.  They  didn't  know 
Isaac.  Isaac  knelt  down  and  began  to  pray: 
he  strung  along,  and  strung  along,  about  the 
heathen  in  distant  lands,  and  about  the  sister 
churches,  and  about  the  state  and  the  country 
at  large,  and  about  those  that's  in  authority  in 
the  government,  and  all  the  usual  programme, 
you  know,  till  everybody  had  got  tired  and 
gone  to  thinking  about  something  else,  and 
then,  all  of  a  sudden,  when  nobody  was  notic 
ing,  he  outs  with  a  match  and  rakes  it  on  the 
under  side  of  his  leg,  and  pff!  up  the  whole 
thing  blazes  like  a  house  afire!  Twelve  bar 
rels  of  water  ?  Petroleum,  sir,  PETROLEUM  ! 
that's  what  it  was  !  " 

"  Petroleum,  captain  ?  " 

4 'Yes,  sir;  the  country  was  full  of  it.  Isaac 
knew  all  about  that.  You  read  the  Bible. 
Don't  you  worry  about  the  tough  places. 
They  ain't  tough  when  you  come  to  think 
them  out  and  throw  light  on  them.  There 
ain't  a  thing  in  the  Bible  but  what  is  true;  all 
you  want  is  to  go  prayerfully  to  work  and 
cipher  out  how  't  was  done." 


T 


A  CURIOUS  EXPERIENCE. 

HIS  is  the  story  which  the  Major  told  me, 
as  nearly  as  I  can  recall  it:— 


In  the  winter  of  1862-3,  I  was  commandant 
of  Fort  Trumbull,  at  New  London,  Conn. 
Maybe  our  life  there  was  not  so  brisk  as  life  at 
"  the  front";  still  it  was  brisk  enough,  in  its 
way — one's  brains  did  n't  cake  together  there 
for  lack  of  something  to  keep  them  stirring. 
For  one  thing,  all  the  Northern  atmosphere  at 
.that  time  was  thick  with  mysterious  rumors — 
rumors  to  the  effect  that  rebel  spies  were  flit 
ting  everywhere,  and  getting  ready  to  blow  up 
our  Northern  forts,  burn  our  hotels,  send  in 
fected  clothing  into  our  towns,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing.  You  remember  it.  All  this  had 
a  tendency  to  keep  us  awake,  and  knock  the 
traditional  dulness  out  of  garrison  life.  Be 
sides,  ours  was  a  recruiting  station — which  is 
the  same  as  saying  we  had  n't  any  time  to 
85 


86  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

waste  in  dozing,  or  dreaming,  or  fooling 
around.  Why,  with  all  our  watchfulness,  fifty 
per  cent,  of  a  day's  recruits  would  leak  out  of 
our  hands  and  give  us  the  slip  the  same  night. 
The  bounties  were  so  prodigious  that  a  recruit 
could  pay  a  sentinel  three  or  four  hundred  dol 
lars  to  let  him  escape,  and  still  have  enough  of 
his  bounty-money  left  to  constitute  a  fortune 
for  a  poor  man.  Yes,  as  I  said  before,  our  life 
was  not  drowsy. 

Well,  one  day  I  was  in  my  quarters  alone, 
doing  some  writing,  when  a  pale  and  ragged 
lad  of  fourteen  or  fifteen  entered,  made  a  neat 
bow,  and  said,— 

"  I  believe  recruits  are  received  here  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Will  you  please  enlist  me,  sir  ?  " 

"  Dear  me,  no!  You  are  too  young,  my 
boy,  and  too  small." 

A  disappointed  look  came  into  his  face,  and 
quickly  deepened  into  an  expression  of  de 
spondency.  He  turned  slowly  away,  as  if  to 
go;  hesitated,  then  faced  me  again,  and  said, 
in  a  tone  which  went  to  my  heart,— 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  87 

"  I  have  no  home,  and  not  a  friend  in  the 
world.  If  you  could  only  enlist  me  !  " 

But  of  course  the  thing  was  out  of  the  ques 
tion,  and  I  said  so  as  gently  as  I  could.  Then 
I  told  him  to  sit  down  by  the  stove  and  warm 
himself,  and  added,— 

"You  shall  have  something  to  eat,  present 
ly.  You  are  hungry  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer;  he  did  not  need  to;  the 
gratitude  in  his  big  soft  eyes  was  more  elo 
quent  than  any  words  could  have  been.  He 
sat  down  by  the  stove,  and  I  went  on  writing. 
Occasionally  I  took  a  furtive  glance  at  him.  I 
noticed  that  his  clothes  and  shoes,  although 
soiled  and  damaged,  were  of  good  style  and 
material.  This  fact  was  suggestive.  To  it  I 
added  the  facts  that  his  voice  was  low  and 
musical;  his  eyes  deep  and  melancholy;  his 
carriage  and  address  gentlemanly;  evidently 
the  poor  chap  was  in  trouble.  As  a  result,  I 
was  interested. 

However,  I  became  absorbed  in  my  work, 
by  and  by,  and  forgot  all  about  the  boy.  I 
don't  know  how  long  this  lasted;  but,  at  length, 


88  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

I  happened  to  look  up.  The  boy's  back  was 
toward  me,  but  his  face  was  turned  in  such  a 
way  that  I  could  see  one  of  his  cheeks — and 
down  that  cheek  a  rill  of  noiseless  tears  was 
flowing. 

"  God  bless  my  soul !  "  I  said  to  myself;  "  I 
forgot  the  poor  rat  was  starving."  Then  I 
made  amends  for  my  brutality  by  saying  to 
him,  "  Come  along,  my  lad;  you  shall  dine 
with  me;  I  am  alone  to-day." 

He  gave  me  another  of  those  grateful  looks, 
and  a  happy  light  broke  in  his  face.  At  the 
table  he  stood  with  his  hand  on  his  chair-back 
until  I  was  seated,  then  seated  himself.  I  took 
up  my  knife  and  fork  and — well,  I  simply  held 
them,  and  kept  still;  for  the  boy  had  inclined 
his  head  and  was  saying  a  silent  grace.  A 
thousand  hallowed  memories  of  home  and  my 
childhood  poured  in  upon  me,  and  I  sighed  to 
think  how  far  I  had  drifted  from  religion  and 
its  balm  for  hurt  minds,  its  comfort  and  solace 
and  support. 

As  our  meal  progressed,  I  observed  that 
young  Wicklow — Robert  Wicklow  was  his  full 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  89 

name — knew  what  to  do  with  his  napkin;  and 
— well,  in  a  word,  I  observed  that  he  was  a 
boy  of  good  breeding;  never  mind  the  details. 
He  had  a  simple  frankness,  too,  which  won 
upon  me.  We  talked  mainly  about  himself, 
and  I  had  no  difficulty  in  getting  his  history 
out  of  him.  When  he  spoke  of  his  having 
been  born  and  reared  in  Louisiana,  I  warmed 
to  him  decidedly,  for  I  had  spent  some  time 
down  there.  I  knew  all  the  "  coast"  region  of 
the  Mississippi,  and  loved  it,  and  had  not  been 
long  enough  away  from  it  for  my  interest  in  it 
to  begin  to  pale.  The  very  names  that  fell 
from  his  lips  sounded  good  to  me, — so  good 
that  I  steered  the  talk  in  directions  that  would 
bring  them  out.  Baton  Rouge,  Plaquemine, 
Donaldsonville,  Sixty  -  mile  Point,  Bonnet- 
Carre,  the  Stock  -  Landing,  Carrollton,  the 
Steamship  Landing,  the  Steamboat  Landing, 
New  Orleans,  Tchoupitoulas  Street,  the  Es 
planade,  the  Rue  des  Bons  Enfants,  the  St. 
Charles  Hotel,  the  Tivoli  Circle,  the  Shell 
Road,  Lake  Pontchartrain;  and  it  was  particu 
larly  aelightful  to  me  to  hear  once  more  of  the 


QO  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

"R.  E.  Lee,'  the  "Natchez,"  the  "Eclipse," 
the  "  General  Quitman,"  the  "  Duncan  F. 
Kenner,"  and  other  old  familiar  steamboats. 
It  was  almost  as  good  as  being  back  there, 
these  names  so  vividly  reproduced  in  my  mind 
the  look  of  the  things  they  stood  for.  Briefly, 
this  was  little  Wicklow's  history:— 

When  the  war  broke  out,  he  and  his  invalid 
aunt  and  his  father  were  living  near  Baton 
Rouge,  on  a  great  and  rich  plantation  which 
had  been  in  the  family  for  fifty  years.  The 
father  was  a  Union  man.  He  was  persecuted 
in  all  sorts  of  ways,  but  clung  to  his  principles. 
At  last,  one  night,  masked  men  burned  his 
mansion  down,  and  the  family  had  to  fly  for 
their  lives.  They  were  hunted  from  place  to 
place,  and  learned  all  there  was  to  know  about 
poverty,  hunger,  and  distress.  The  invalid 
aunt  found  relief  at  last :  misery  and  exposure 
killed  her ;  she  died  in  an  open  field,  like  a 
tramp,  the  rain  beating  upon  her  and  the  thun 
der  booming  overhead.  Not  long  afterward, 
the  father  was  captured  by  an  armed  band; 
and  while  the  son  begged  and  pleaded,  the 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  91 

victim  was  strung  up  before  his  face.  [At  this 
point  a  baleful  light  shone  in  the  youth's  eyes, 
and  he  said,  with  the  manner  of  one  who  talks 
to  himself:  "  If  I  cannot  be  enlisted,  no  matter 
—I  shall  find  a  way — I  shall  find  a  way."]  As 
soon  as  the  father  was  pronounced  dead,  the 
son  was  told  that  if  he  was  not  out  of  that  re 
gion  within  twenty-four  hours,  it  would  go 
hard  with  him.  That  night  he  crept  to  the 
riverside  and  hid  himself  near  a  plantation 
landing.  By  and  by  the  "  Duncan  F.  Kenner," 
stopped  there,  and  he  swam  out  and  concealed 
himself  in  the  yawl  that  was  dragging  at  her 
stern.  Before  daylight  the  boat  reached  the 
Stock-Landing,  and  he  slipped  ashore.  He 
walked  the  three  miles  which  lay  between  that 
point  and  the  house  of  an  uncle  of  his  in  Good- 
Children  Street,  in  New  Orleans,  and  then  his 
troubles  were  over  for  the  time  being.  But 
this  uncle  was  a  Union  man,  too,  and  before 
very  long  he  concluded  that  he  had  better 
leave  the  South.  So  he  and  young  Wicklow 
slipped  out  of  the  country  on  board  a  sailing 
vessel,  and  in  due  time  reached  New  York. 


92  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

They  put  up  at  the  Astor  House.  Young 
Wicklow  had  a  good  time  of  it  for  a  while, 
strolling  up  and  down  Broadway,  and  observ 
ing  the  strange  Northern  sights  ;  but  in  the 
end  a  change  came, — and  not  for  the  better. 
The  uncle  had  been  cheerful  at  first,  but  now  he 
began  to  look  troubled  and  despondent;  more 
over,  he  became  moody  and  irritable;  talked 
of  money  giving  out,  and  no  way  to  get  more, 
— 4i  not  enough  left  for  one,  let  alone  two." 
Then,  one  morning,  he  was  missing — did  not 
come  to  breakfast.  The  boy  inquired  at  the 
office,  and  was  told  that  the  uncle  had  paid  his 
bill  the  night  before  and  gone  away — to  Bos 
ton,  the  clerk  believed,  but  was  not  certain. 

The  lad  was  alone  and  friendless.  He  did 
not  know  what  to  do,  but  concluded  he  had 
better  try  to  follow  and  find  his  uncle.  He 
went  down  to  the  steamboat  landing;  learned 
that  the  trifle  of  money  in  his  pocket  would  not 
carry  him  to  Boston;  however,  it  would  carry 
him  to  New  London;  so  he  took  passage  for 
that  port,  resolving  to  trust  to  Providence  to 
furnish  him  means  to  travel  the  rest  of  the  way. 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  93 

He  had  now  been  wandering  about  the  streets 
of  New  London  three  days  and  nights,  getting 
a  bite  and  a  nap  here  and  there  for  charity's 
sake.  But  he  had  given  up  at  last;  courage 
and  hope  were  both  gone.  If  he  could  enlist, 
nobody  could  be  -more  thankful ;  if  he  could  not 
get  in  as  a  soldier,  couldn't  he  be  a  drummer- 
boy  ?  Ah,  he  would  work  so  hard  to  please, 
and  would  be  so  grateful  ! 

Well,  there's  the  history  of  young  Wicklow, 
just  as  he  told  it  to  me,  barring  details.  I 
said, — 

"  My  boy,  you  are  among  friends,  now,— 
don't  you  be  troubled  any  more."  How  his 
eyes  glistened  !  I  called  in  Sergeant  John 
Rayburn, — he  was  from  Hartford;  lives  in 
Hartford  yet;  maybe  you  know  him, — and 
said,  "  Rayburn,  quarter  this  boy  with  the 
musicians.  I  am  going  to  enroll  him  as  a 
drummer-boy,  and  I  want  you  to  look  after 
him  and  see  that  he  is  well  treated." 

Well,  of  course,  intercourse  between  the 
commandant  of  the  post  and  the  drummer-boy 
came  to  an  end,  now;  but  the  poor  little 


94  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

friendless  chap  lay  heavy  on  my  heart,  just  the 
same.  I  kept  on  the  lookout,  hoping  to  see 
him  brighten  up  and  begin  to  be  cheery  and 
gay;  but  no,  the  days  went  by,  and  there  was 
no  change.  He  associated  with  nobody;  he 
was  always  absent-minded,  always  thinking; 
his  face  was  always  sad.  One  morning  Ray- 
burn  asked  leave  to  speak  to  me  privately. 
Said  he, — 

"  I  hope  I  don't  offend,  sir;  but  the  truth  is, 
the  musicians  are  in  such  a  sweat  it  seems  as  if 
somebody's  got  to  speak." 

"  Why,  what  is  the  trouble  ?  " 

"  It's  the  Wicklow  boy,  sir.  The  musicians 
are  down  on  him  to  an  extent  you  can't  im 
agine." 

"  Well,  go  on,  go  on.  What  has  he  been 
doing  ?  " 

"Prayin',  sir." 

"  Praying !" 

"  Yes,  sir;  the  musicians  haven't  any  peace 
of  their  life  for  that  boy's  prayin'.  First  thing 
in  the  morning  he's  at  it;  noons  he's  at  it;  and 
nights — well,  nig  Jits  he  just  lays  into  'em  like 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  95 

all  possessed  !  Sleep  ?  Bless  you,  they  can't 
sleep:  he's  got  the  floor,  as  the  sayin'  is,  and 
then  when  he  once  gets  his  supplication-mill 
agoin',  there  just  simply  ain't  any  let-up  to 
him.  He  starts  in  with  the  band-master,  and 
he  prays  for  him;  next  he  takes  the  head 
bugler,  and  he  prays  for  him;  next  the  bass 
drum,  and  he  scoops  him  in;  and  so  on,  right 
straight  through  the  band,  givin'  them  all  a 
show,  and  takin'  that  amount  of  interest  in  it 
which  would  make  you  think  he  thought  he 
warn't  but  a  little  while  for  this  world,  and  be 
lieved  he  couldn't  be  happy  in  heaven  without 
he  had  a  brass  band  along,  and  wanted  to  pick 
'em  out  for  himself,  so  he  could  depend  on  'em 
to  do  up  the  national  tunes  in  a  style  suitin'  to 
the  place.  Well,  sir,  heavin' boots  at  him  don't 
have  no  effect;  it's  dark  in  there;  and,  besides, 
he  don't  pray  fair,  anyway,  but  kneels  down 
behind  the  big  drum;  so  it  don't  make  no  dif 
ference  if  they  rain  boots  at  him,  he  don't  give 
a  dern — warbles  right  along,  same  as  if  it  was 
applause.  They  sing  out,  '  Oh,  dry  up  !'  'Give 
us  a  rest ! '  '  Shoot  him  ! '  *  Oh,  take  a  walk  ! ' 


96  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

and  all  sorts  of  such  things.  But  what  of  it  ? 
It  don't  phaze  him.  He  don't  mind  it."  After 
a  pause  :  "  Kind  of  a  good  little  fool,  too  ;  gits 
up  in  the  mornin'  and  carts  all  that  stock  of 
boots  back,  and  sorts  'em  out  and  sets  each 
man's  pair  where  they  belong.  And  they've 
been  throwed  at  him  so  much  now,  that  he 
knows  every  boot  in  the  band, — can  sort  'em 
out  with  his  eyes  shut." 

After  another  pause,  which  I  forebore  to 
interrupt,— 

"  But  the  roughest  thing  about  it  is,  that 
when  he's  done  prayin', — when  he  ever  does 
get  done, — he  pipes  up  and  begins  to  sing. 
Well,  you  know  what  a  honey  kind  of  a  voice 
he's  got  when  he  talks;  you  know  how  it 
would  persuade  a  cast-iron  dog  to  come  down 
off  of  a  doorstep  and  lick  his  hand.  Now  if 
you'll  take  my  word  for  it,  sir,  it  ain't  a  circum 
stance  to  his  singin'  !  Flute  music  is  harsh  to 
that  boy's  singin'.  Oh,  he  just  gurgles  it  out 
so  soft  and  sweet  and  low,  there  in  the  dark, 
that  it  makes  you  think  you  are  in  heaven." 

"What  is  there  *  rough  '  about  that?" 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  97 

"  Ah,  that's  just  it,  sir.     You  hear  him  sing 
"  '  Just  as  I  am — poor,  wretched,  blind,' 

— just  you  hear  him  sing  that,  once,  and  see  if 
you  don't  melt  all  up  and  the  water  come  into 
your  eyes  !  I  don't  care  what  he  sings,  it  goes 
plum  straight  home  to  you — it  goes  deep  down 
to  where  you  live — and  it  fetches  you  every 
time  !  Just  you  hear  him  sing:— 

"  '  Child  of  sin  and  sorrow,  filled  with  dismay, 
Wait  not  till  to-morrow,  yield  thee  to-day; 
Grieve  not  that  love 
Which,  from  above  ' — 

and  so  on.  It  makes  a  body  feel  like  the 
wickedest,  ungratefulest  brute  that  walks. 
And  when  he  sings  them  songs  of  his  about 
home,  and  mother,  and  childhood,  and  old 
memories,  and  things  that's  vanished,  and  old 
friends  dead  and  gone,  it  fetches  everything 
before  your  face  that  you've  ever  loved  and 
lost  in  all  your  life — and  it's  just  beautiful,  it's 
just  divine  to  listen  to,  sir — but,  Lord,  Lord, 
the  heart-break  of  it!  The  band — well,  they 
all  cry — every  rascal  of  them  blubbers,  and 


98  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

don't  try  to  hide  it,  either;  and  first  you  know, 
that  very  gang  that's  been  slammin'  boots  at 
that  boy  will  skip  out  of  their  bunks  all  of  a 
sudden,  and  rush  over  in  the  dark  and  hug 
him  !  Yes,  they  do — and  slobber  all  over  him, 
and  call  him  pet  names,  and  beg  him  to  for 
give  them.  And  just  at  that  time,  if  a  regi 
ment  was  to  offer  to  hurt  a  hair  of  that  cub's 
head,  they'd  go  for  that  regiment,  if  it  was  a 
whole  army  corps  !  " 

Another  pause. 

"Is  that  all  ?"  said  I. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  dear  me,  what  is  the  complaint? 
What  do  they  want  done  ?  " 

"  Done  ?  Why,  bless  you,  sir,  they  want 
you  to  stop  him  from  singiri  " 

"What  an  idea!  You  said  his  music  was 
divine." 

"  That's  just  it.  It's  too  divine.  Mortal  man 
can't  stand  it.  It  stirs  a  body  up  so;  it  turns  a 
body  inside  out  ;  it  racks  his  feelin's  all  to 
rags;  it  makes  him  feel  bad  and  wicked,  and 
not  fit  for  any  place  but  perdition.  It  keeps  a 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  99 

body  in  such  an  everlastin'  state  of  repentin', 
that  nathin'  don't  taste  good  and  there  ain't  no 
comfort  in  life.  And  then  the  cryiri ,  you  see 
— every  mornin'  they  are  ashamed  to  look  one 
another  in  the  face." 

"Well,  this  is  an  odd  case,  and  a  singular 
complaint.  So  they  really  want  the  singing 
stopped  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  that  is  the  idea.  They  don't 
wish  to  ask  too  much;  they  would  like  power 
ful  well  to  have  the  prayin'  shut  down  on,  or 
leastways  trimmed  off  around  the  edges;  but 
the  main  thing's  the  singin'.  If  they  can  only 
get  the  singin'  choked  off,  they  think  they  can 
stand  the  prayin',  rough  as  it  is  to  be  bully 
ragged  so  much  that  way." 

I  told  the  sergeant  I  would  take  the  matter 
under  consideration.  That  night  I  crept  into 
the  musicians'  quarters  and  listened.  The 
sergeant  had  not  overstated  the  case.  I  heard 
the  praying  voice  pleading  in  the  dark;  I 
heard  the  execrations  of  the  harassed  men;  I 
heard  the  rain  of  boots  whiz  through  the  air, 
and  bang  and  thump  around  the  big  drum. 


100  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

The  thing  touched  me,  but  it  amused  me,  too. 
By  and  by,  after  an  impressive  silence,  came 
the  singing.  Lord,  the  pathos  of  it,  the  en 
chantment  of  it !  Nothing  in  the  world  was 
ever  so  sweet,  so  gracious,  so  tender,  so  holy, 
so  moving.  I  made  my  stay  very  brief;  I  was 
beginning  to  experience  emotions  of  a  sort  not 
proper  to  the  commandant  of  a  fortress. 

Next  day  I  issued  orders  which  stopped  the 
praying  and  singing.     Then  followed  three  or 
four  days  which  were  so  full  of  bounty -jumping 
excitements  and  irritations  that  I  never  once 
thought  of  my  drummer-boy.     But  now  comes 
Sergeant  Rayburn,  one  morning,  and  says, — 
"  That  new  boy  acts  mighty  strange,  sir." 
"  How  ?  " 

''Well,  sir,  he's  all  the  time  writing." 
"  Writing  ?     What  does  he  write— letters  ?" 
"  I  don't   know,  sir;  but   whenever  he's    off 
duty,  he  is  always  poking  and  nosing  around 
the  fort,  all  by  himself, — blest  if  I  think  there's 
a  hole  or  corner  in  it  he  hasn't  been  into, — and 
every  little  while  he  outs  with  pencil  and  paper 
and  scribbles  something  down." 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  IOI 

This  gave  me  a  most  unpleasant  sensation. 
I  wanted  to  scoff  at  it,  but  it  was  not  a  time  to 
scoff  at  anything  that  had  the  least  suspicious 
tinge  about  it.  Things  were  happening  all 
around  us,  in  the  North,  then,  that  warned  us  to 
be  always  on  the  alert,  and  always  suspecting. 
I  recalled  to  mind  the  suggestive  fact  that  this 
boy  was  from  the  South, — the  extreme  South, 
Louisiana, — and  the  thought  was  not  of  a  re 
assuring  nature,  under  the  circumstances. 
Nevertheless,  it  cost  me  a  pang  to  give  the 
orders  which  I  now  gave  to  Rayburn.  I  felt 
like  a  father  who  plots  to  expose  his  own  child 
to  shame  and  injury.  I  told  Rayburn  to  keep 
quiet,  bide  his  time,  and  get  me  some  of  those 
writings  whenever  he  could  manage  it  without 
the  boy's  finding  it  out.  And  I  charged  him 
not  to  do  anything  which  might  let  the  boy 
discover  that  he  was  being  watched.  I  also 
ordered  that  he  allow  the  lad  his  usual  liber 
ties,  but  that  he  be  followed  at  a  distance  when 
he  went  out  into  the  town. 

During  the  next  two  days,  Rayburn  report 
ed  to  me  several  times.  No  success.  The 


102  A  CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.       • 

boy  was  still  writing,  but  he  always  pocketed 
his  paper  with  a  careless  air  whenever  Ray- 
burn  appeared  in  his  vicinity.  He  had  gone 
twice  to  an  old  deserted  stable  in  the  town, 
remained  a  minute  or  two,  and  come  out 
again.  One  could  not  pooh-pooh  these  things 
—they  had  an  evil  look.  I  was  obliged  to 
confess  to  myself  that  I  was  getting  uneasy. 
I  went  into  my  private  quarters  and  sent  for 
my  second  in  command — an  officer  of  intelli 
gence  and  judgment,  son  of  General  James 
Watson  Webb.  He  was  surprised  and  troub 
led.  We  had  a  long  talk  over  the  matter,  and 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  would  be  worth 
while  to  institute  a  secret  search.  I  deter 
mined  to  take  charge  of  that  myself.  So  I 
had  myself  called  at  two  in  the  morning;  and, 
pretty  soon  after,  I  was  in  the  musicians'  quar 
ters,  crawling  along  the  floor  on  my  stomach 
among  the  snorers.  I  reached  my  slumbering 
waifs  bunk  at  last,  without  disturbing  any 
body,  captured  his  clothes  and  kit,  and  crawled 
stealthily  back  again.  When  I  got  to  my  own 
quarters,  I  found  Webb  there,  waiting  and 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  103 

eager  to  know  the  result.  We  made  search 
immediately.  The  clothes  were  a  disappoint 
ment.  In  the  pockets  we  found  blank  paper 
and  a  pencil ;  nothing  else,  except  a  jack- 
knife  and  such  queer  odds  and  ends  and  use 
less  trifles  as  boys  hoard  and  value.  We 
turned  to  the  kit  hopefully.  Nothing  there 
but  a  rebuke  for  us! — a  little  Bible  with  this 
written  on  the  fly-leaf:  "  Stranger,  be  kind  to  v 
my  boy,  for  his  mother's  sake." 

I  looked  at  Webb — he  dropped  his  eyes;  he 
looked  at  me — I  dropped  mine.  Neither  spoke. 
I  put  the  book  reverently  back  in  its  place. 
Presently  Webb  got  up  and  went  away,  with-  ' 
out  remark.  After  a  little  I  nerved  myself  up 
to  my  unpalatable  job,  and  took  the  plunder 
back  to  where  it  belonged,  crawling  on  my 
stomach  as  before.  It  seemed  the  peculiarly 
appropriate  attitude  for  the  business  I  was 
in. 

I  was   most  honestly  glad  when  it  was  over 
and  done  with. 

About  noon  next  day  Rayburn  came,  as  usu 
al,  to  report.     I  cut  him  short.     I  said, — 


104  A   CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE. 

"  Let  this  nonsense  be  dropped.  We  are 
making  a  bugaboo  out  of  a  poor  little  cub 
who  has  got  no  more  harm  in  him  than  a 
hymn-book." 

The   sergeant  looked  surprised,  and  said,— 

"  Well,  you  know  it  was  your  orders,  sir,  and 
I've  got  some  of  the  writing." 

"  And  what  does  it  amount  to  ?  How  did 
you  get  it  ?  " 

"  I  peeped  through  the  key-hole,  and  see 
him  writing.  So  when  I  judged  he  was  about 
done,  I  made  a  sort  of  a  little  cough,  and  I  see 
him  crumple  it  up  and  throw  it  in  the  fire, 
and  look  all  around  to  see  if  anybody  was  com 
ing.  Then  he  settled  back  as  comfortable  and 
careless  as  anything.  Then  I  comes  in,  and 
passes  the  time  of  day  pleasantly,  and  sends 
him  of  an  errand.  He  never  looked  uneasy, 
but  went  right  along.  It  was  a  coal-fire  and 
new-built;  the  writing  had  gone  over  behind  a 
chunk,  out  of  sight;  but  I  got  it  out;  there  it  is; 
it  ain't  hardly  scorched,  you  see." 

I  glanced  at  the  paper  and  took  in  a  sentence 
or  two.  Then  I  dismissed  the  sergeant  and 


A  CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  105 

told  him  to  send  Webb  to   me.     Here   is  the 
paper  in  full  :— 

"  FORT  TRUMBULL,  the  8th. 

"  COLONEL, — I  was  mistaken  as  to  the  calibre  of  the 
three  guns  I  ended  my  list  with.  They  are  i8-pound- 
ers;  all  the  rest  of  the  armament  is  as  I  stated.  The 
garrison  remains  as  before  reported,  except  that  the 
two  light  infantry  companies  that  were  to  be  detached 
for  service  at  the  front  are  to  stay  here  for  the  present 
—can't  find  out  for  how  long,  just  now,  but  will  soon. 
We  are  satisfied  that,  all  things  considered,  matters 
had  better  be  postponed  un — 

There  it  broke  off— there  is  where  Rayburn 
coughed  and  interrupted  the  writer.  All  my 
affection  for  the  boy,  all  my  respect  for  him  and 
charity  for  his  forlorn  condition,  withered  in  a 
moment  under  the  blight  of  this  revelation  of 
cold-blooded  baseness. 

But  never  mind  about  that.  Here  was  busi 
ness, — business  that  required  profound  and  im 
mediate  attention,  too.  Webb  and  I  turned 
the  subject  over  and  over,  and  examined  it  all 
around.  Webb  said,— 

"  What  a  pity  he  was  interrupted  !  Some 
thing  is  going  to  be  postponed  until — when  ? 
And  what  is  the  something  ?  Possibly  he 


IO6  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

would  have  mentioned  it,  the  pious  little  rep 
tile  !  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  we  have  missed  a  trick. 
And  who  is  '  we,'  in  the  letter  ?  Is  it  conspir 
ators  inside  the  fort  or  outside  ?  " 

That  "we"  was  uncomfortably  suggestive. 
However,  it  was  not  worth  while  to  be  guess 
ing  around  that,  so  we  proceeded  to  matters 
more  practical.  In  the  first  place,  we  decided 
to  double  the  sentries  and  keep  the  strictest 
possible  watch.  Next,  we  thought  of  calling 
Wicklow  in  and  making  him  divulge  every 
thing;  but  that  did  not  seem  wisest  until  other 
methods  should  fail.  We  musthave  some  more 
of  the  writings;  so  we  began  to  plan  to  that 
end.  And  now  we  had  an  idea  :  Wicklow 
never  went  to  the  post-office, — perhaps  the  de 
serted  stable  was  his  post-office.  WTe  sent  for 
my  confidential  clerk — a  young  German  named 
Sterne,  who  was  a  sort  of  natural  detective— 
and  told  him  all  about  the  case  and  ordered 
him  to  go  to  work  on  it.  Within  the  hour  we 
got  word  that  Wicklow  was  writing  again. 
Shortly  afterward,  word  came  that  he  had 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  IO/ 

asked  leave  to  go  out  into  the  town.  He  was 
detained  awhile,  and  meantime  Sterne  hurried 
off  and  concealed  himself  in  the  stable.  By 
and  by  he  saw  Wicklow  saunter  in,  look  about 
him,  then  hide  something  under  some  rubbish 
in  a  corner,  and  take  leisurely  leave  again. 
Sterne  pounced  upon  the  hidden  article — a  let 
ter — and  brought  it  to  us.  It  had  no  super 
scription  and  no  signature.  It  repeated  what  we 
had  already  read,  and  then  went  on  to  say  :— 

"  We  think  k  best  to  postpone  till  the  two  companies 
are  gone.  I  mean  the  four  inside  think  so;  have  not 
communicated  with  the  others — afraid  of  attracting 
attention.  I  say  four  because  we  have  lost  two;  they 
had  hardly  enlisted  and  got  inside  when  they  were 
shipped  off  to  the  front.  It  will  be  absolutely  neces 
sary  to  have  two  in  their  places.  The  two  that  went 
were  the  brothers  from  Thirty-mile  Point.  I  have 
something  of  the  greatest  importance  to  reveal,  but 
must  not  trust  it  to  this  method  of  communication ; 
will  try  the  other." 

"  The  little  scoundrel!  "said  Webb;  "who 
could  have  supposed  he  was  a  spy  ?  However, 
never  mind  about  that;  let  us  add  up  our  par 
ticulars,  such  as  they  are,  and  see  how  the  case 
stands  to  date.  First,  we've  got  a  rebel  spy  in 


108  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

our  midst,  whom  we  know;  secondly,  we've 
got  three  more  in  our  midst  whom  we  don't 
know;  thirdly,  these  spies  have  been  intro 
duced  among  us  through  the  simple  and  easy 
process  of  enlisting  as  soldiers  in  the  Union 
army — and  evidently  two  of  them  have  got 
sold  at  it,  and  been  shipped  off  to  the  front; 
fourthly,  there  are  assistant  spies  *  outside  ' — 
number  indefinite;  fifthly,  Wicklow  has  very 
important  matter  which  he  is  afraid  to  commu 
nicate  by  the  '  present  method  ' — will  '  try  the 
other.'  That  is  the  case,  as  it  now  stands. 
Shall  we  collar  Wicklow  and  make  him  con 
fess  ?  Or  shall  we  catch  the  person  who  re 
moves  the  letters  from  the  stable  and  make  him 
tell  ?  Or  shall  we  keep  still  and  find  out 
more  ?  " 

We  decided  upon  the  last  course.  We 
judged  that  we  did  not  need  to  proceed  to 
summary  measures  now,  since  it  was  evident 
that  the  conspirators  were  likely  to  wait  till 
those  two  light  infantry  companies  were  out  of 
the  way.  We  fortified  Sterne  with  pretty 
ample  powers,  and  told  him  to  use  his  best  en- 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  109 

deavors  to  find  out  Wicklow's  "  other  method  " 
of  communication.  We  meant  to  play  a  bold 
game;  and  to  this  end  we  proposed  to  keep 
the  spies  in  an  unsuspecting  state  as  long  as 
possible.  So  we  ordered  Sterne  to  return  to 
the  stable  immediately,  and,  if  he  found  the 
coast  clear,  to  conceal  Wicklow's  letter  where 
it  was  before,  and  leave  it  there  for  the  con 
spirators  to  get. 

The  night  closed  down  without  further  event. 
It  was  cold  and  dark  and  sleety,  with  a  raw 
wind  blowing;  still  I  turned  out  of  my  warm 
bed  several  times  during  the  night,  and  went 
the  rounds  in  person,  to  see  that  all  was  right 
and  that  every  sentry  was  on  the  alert.  I  al 
ways  found  them  wide  awake  and  watchful; 
evidently  whispers  of  mysterious  dangers  had 
been  floating  about,  and  the  doubling  of  the 
guards  had  been  a  kind  of  indorsement  of  those 
rumors.  Once,  toward  morning,  I  encountered 
Webb,  breasting  his  way  against  the  bitter 
wind,  and  learned  then  that  he,  also,  had  been 
the  rounds  several  times  to  see  that  all  was 
going  right. 


HO  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

Next  day's  events  hurried  things  up  some 
what.  Wicklow  wrote  another  letter;  Sterne 
preceded  him  to  the  stable  and  saw  him  de 
posit  it;  captured  it  as  soon  as  Wicklow  was 
out  of  the  way,  then  slipped  out  and  followed 
the  little  spy  at  a  distance,  with  a  detective  in 
plain  clothes  at  his  own  heels,  for  we  thought 
it  judicious  to  have  the  law's  assistance  handy 
in  case  of  need.  Wicklow  went  to  the  railway 
station,  and  waited  around  till  the  train  from 
New  York  came  in,  then  stood  scanning  the 
faces  of  the  crowd  as  they  poured  out  of  the 
cars.  Presently  an  aged  gentleman,  with  green 
goggles  and  a  cane,  came  limping  along,  stop 
ped  in  Wicklow's  neighborhood,  and  began  to 
look  about  him  expectantly.  In  an  instant 
Wicklow  darted  forward,  thrust  an  envelope 
into  his  hand,  then  glided  away  and  disap 
peared  in  the  throng.  The  next  instant 
Sterne  had  snatched  the  letter;  and  as  he  hur 
ried  past  the  detective,  he  said:  "  Follow  the 
old  gentleman — don't  lose  sight  of  him."  Then 
Sterne  skurried  out  with  the  crowd,  and  came 
straight  to  the  fort. 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  Ill 

We  sat  with  closed  doors,  and  instructed 
the  guard  outside  to  allow  no  interruption. 

First  we  opened  the  letter  captured  at  the 
stable.  It  read  as  follows: — 

"  HOLY  ALLIANCE, — Found,  in  the  usual  gun,  com 
mands  from  the  Master,  left  there  last  night,  which  set 
aside  the  instructions  heretofore  received  from  the 
subordinate  quarter.  Have  left  in  the  gun  the  usual 
indication  that  the  commands  reached  the  proper 
hand — " 

Webb,  interrupting:  "Isn't  the  boy  under 
constant  surveillance  now  ?  " 

I  said  yes;  he  had  been  under  strict  surveil 
lance  ever  since  the  capturing  of  his  former 
letter. 

"Then  how  could  he  put  anything  into  a 
gun,  or  take  anything  out  of  it,  and  not  get 
caught  ?" 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  I  don't  like  the  look  of  that 
very  well." 

"  I  don't,  either,"  said  Webb.  "  It  simply 
means  that  there  are  conspirators  among  the 
very  sentinels.  Without  their  connivance  in 
some  way  or  other,  the  thing  could  n't  have 
been  done." 


112  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

I  sent  for  Rayburn,  and  ordered  him  to 
examine  the  batteries  and  see  what  he  could 
find.  The  reading  of  the  letter  was  then  re 
sumed: — 

"  The  new  commands  are  peremptory,  and  require 
that  the  MMMM  shall  be  FFFFF  at  3  o'clock  to-mor 
row  morning.  Two  hundred  will  arrive,  in  small 
parties,  by  train  and  otherwise,  from  various  directions, 
and  will  be  at  appointed  place  at  right  time.  I  will 
distribute  the  sign  to-day.  Success  is  apparently  sure, 
though  something  must  have  got  out,  for  the  sentries 
have  been  doubled,  and  the  chiefs  went  the  rounds 
last  night  several  times.  W.  W.  comes  from  southerly 
to-day  and  will  receive  secret  orders — by  the  other 
method.  All  six  of  you  must  be  in  166  at  sharp  2  A.  M. 
You  will  find  B.  B.  there,  who  will  give  you  detailed 
instructions.  Password  same  as  last  time,  only  re 
versed — put  first  syllable  last  and  last  syllable  first. 
REMEMBER  XXXX.  Do  not  forget.  Be  of  good 
heart;  before  the  next  sun  rises  you  will  be  heroes; 
your  fame  will  be  permanent;  you  will  have  added  a 
deathless  page  to  history.  Amen." 

"  Thunder  and  Mars,"  said  Webb,  "  but  we 
are  getting  into  mighty  hot  quarters,  as  I  look 
at  it !  " 

I  said  there  was  no  question  but  that  things 
were  beginning  to  wear  a  most  serious  aspect. 
Said  I,— 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  113 

"  A  desperate  enterprise  is  on  foot,  that  is 
plain  enough.  To-night  is  the  time  set  for  it, 
— that,  also,  is  plain.  The  exact  nature  of  the 
enterprise — I  mean  the  manner  of  it — is  hid 
den  away  under  those  blind  bunches  of  M's 
and  F's,  but  the  end  and  aim,  I  judge,  is  the 
surprise  and  capture  of  the  post.  We  must 
move  quick  and  sharp  now.  I  think  nothing 
can  be  gained  by  continuing  our  clandestine 
policy  as  regards  Wicklow.  We  must  know, 
and  as  soon  as  possible,  too,  where  '166'  is 
located,  so  that  we  can  make  a  descent  upon 
the  gang  there  at  2  A.  M.;  and  doubtless  the 
quickest  way  to  get  that  information  will  be  to 
force  it  out  of  that  boy.  But  first  of  all,  and 
before  we  make  any  important  move,  I  must 
lay  the  facts  before  the  War  'Department,  and 
ask  for  plenary  powers." 

The  despatch  was  prepared  in  cipher  to  go 
over  the  wires;  I  read  it,  approved  it,  and  sent 
it  along. 

We  presently  finished  discussing  the  letter 
which  was  under  consideration,  and  then 
opened  the  one  which  had  been  snatched  from 


114  A   CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE. 

the  lame  gentleman.  It  contained  nothing  but 
a  couple  of  perfectly  blank  sheets  of  note- 
paper  !  It  was  a  chilly  check  to  our  hot  eager 
ness  and  expectancy.  We  felt  as  blank  as  the 
paper,  for  a  moment,  and  twice  as  foolish. 
But  it  was  for  a  moment  only;  for,  of  course, 
we  immediately  afterward  thought  of  "  sympa 
thetic  ink."  We  held  the  paper  close  to  the 
fire  and  watched  for  the  characters  to  come 
out,  under  the  influence  of  the  heat;  but  noth 
ing  appeared  but  some  faint  tracings,  which 
we  could  make  nothing  of.  We  then  called  in 
the  surgeon,  and  sent  him  off  with  orders  to 
apply  every  test  he  was  acquainted  with  till  he 
got  the  right  one,  and  report  the  contents  of  the 
letter  to  me  the  instant  he  brought  them  to  the 
surface.  This  check  was  a  confounded  annoy 
ance,  and  we  naturally  chafed  under  the  delay; 
for  we  had  fully  expected  to  get  out  of  that  letter 
some  of  the  most  important  secrets  of  the  plot. 
Now  appeared  Sergeant  Rayburn,  and  drew 
from  his  pocket  a  piece  of  twine  string  about  a 
foot  long,  with  three  knots  tied  in  it,  and  held 
it  up. 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  IK 

"  I  got  it  out  of  a  gun  on  the  water-front," 
said  he.  "  I  took  the  tompions  out  of  all  the 
guns  and  examined  close;  this  string  was  the 
only  thing  that  was  in  any  gun." 

So  this  bit  of  string  was  Wicklow's  "  sign  "  to 
signify  that  the  "  Master's"  commands  had  not 
miscarried.  I  ordered  that  every  sentinel  who 
had  served  near  that  gun  during  the  past  twen 
ty-four  hours  be  put  in  confinement  at  once  and 
separately,  and  not  allowed  to  communicate 
with  any  one  without  my  privity  and  consent. 

A  telegram  now  came  from  the  Secretary  of 
War.  It  read  as  follows  : — 

"  Suspend  habeas  corpus.  Put  town  under  martial 
law.  Make  necessary  arrests.  Act  with  vigor  and 
promptness.  Keep  the  Department  informed." 

We  were  now  in  shape  to  go  to  work.  I 
sent  out  and  had  the  lame  gentleman  quietly 
arrested  and  as  quietly  brought  into  the  fort; 
I  placed  him  under  guard,  and  forbade  speech 
to  him  or  from  him.  He  was  inclined  to  blus 
ter  at  first,  but  he  soon  dropped  that. 

Next  came  word  that  Wicklow  had  been 
seen  to  give  something  to  a  couple  of  our  new 


Il6  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

recruits;  and  that,  as  soon  as  his  back  was 
turned,  these  had  been  seized  and  confined. 
Upon  each  was  found  a  small  bit  of  paper, 
bearing  these  words  and  signs  in  pencil  : — 


EAGLE'S  THIRD  FLIGHT. 

REMEMBER  xxxx. 

166. 


In  accordance  with  instructions,  I  tele 
graphed  to  the  Department,  in  cipher,  the 
progress  made,  and  also  described  the  above 
ticket.  We  seemed  to  be  in  a  strong  enough 
position  now  to  venture  to  throw  off  the  mask 
as  regarded  Wicklow  ;  so  I  sent  for  him.  I 
also  sent  for  and  received  back  the  letter  writ 
ten  in  sympathetic  ink,  the  surgeon  accompa 
nying  it  with  the  information  that  thus  far  it 
had  resisted  his  tests,  but  that  there  were  oth 
ers  he  could  apply  when  I  should  be  ready  for 
him  to  do  so. 

Presently    Wicklow    entered.       He   had   a 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  1 1/ 

somewhat  worn  and  anxious  look,  but  he  was 
composed  and  easy,  and  if  he  suspected  any 
thing  it  did  not  appear  in  his  face  or  manner. 
I  allowed  him  to  stand  there  a  moment  or  two, 
then  I  said  pleasantly,— 

44  My  boy,  why  do  you  go  to  that  old  stable 
so  much  ?  " 

He  answered,  with  simple  demeanor  and 
without  embarrassment,— 

''Well,  I  hardly  know,  sir;  there  isn't  any 
particular  reason,  except  that  I  like  to  be 
alone,  and  I  amuse  myself  there." 

44  You  amuse  yourself  there,  do  you  ?  " 

4<  Yes,  sir,"  he  replied,  as  innocently  and 
simply  as  before. 

"  Is  that  all  you  do  there  ? " 

44  Yes,  sir,"  he  said,  looking  up  with  childlike 
wonderment  in  his  big  soft  eyes. 

44  You  are  sure  ?" 

4'  Yes,  sir,  sure." 

After  a  pause,  I  said, — 

44  Wicklow,  why  do  you  write  so  much  ?" 

44  I  ?     I  do  not  write  much,  sir." 

44  You  don't?" 


Il8  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

"  No,  sir.  Oh,  if  you  mean  scribbling,  I  do 
scribble  some,  for  amusement." 

44  What  do  you  do  with  your  scribblings  ?" 

"  Nothing,  sir — throw  them  away." 

"Never  send  them  to  anybody  ?  " 

44  No,  sir." 

I  suddenly  thrust  before  him  the  letter  to  the 
"  Colonel."  He  started  slightly,  but  immedi 
ately  composed  himself.  A  slight  tinge  spread 
itself  over  his  cheek. 

44  How  came  you  to  send  this  piece  of  scrib 
bling,  then  ? " 

"  I  nev — never  meant  any  harm,  sir." 

"  Never  meant  any  harm  !  You  betray  the 
armament  and  condition  of  the  post,  and  mean 
no  harm  by  it  ?  " 

He  hung  his  head  and  was  silent. 

44  Come,  speak  up,  and  stop  lying.  Whom 
was  this  letter  intended  for  ? " 

He  showed  signs  of  distress,  now  ;  but  quick 
ly  collected  himself,  and  replied,  in  a  tone  of 
deep  earnestness, — 

44 1  will  tell  you  the  truth,  sir — the  whole 
truth.  The  letter  was  never  intended  for  any- 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  1 19 

body  at  all.  I  wrote  it  only  to  amuse  myself. 
I  see  the  error  and  foolishness  of  it,  now, — but 
it  is  the  only  offence,  sir,  upon  my  honor." 

"  Ah,  I  am  glad  of  that.  It  is  dangerous  to 
be  writing  such  letters.  I  hope  you  are  sure 
this  is  the  only  one  you  wrote  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  perfectly  sure." 

His  hardihood  was  stupefying.  He  told  that 
lie  with  as  sincere  a  countenance  as  any  crea 
ture  ever  wore.  I  waited  a  moment  to  soothe 
down  my  rising  temper,  and  then  said,— 

"  Wicklow,  jog  your  memory  now,  and  see 
if  you  can  help  me  with  two  or  three  little  mat 
ters  which  I  wish  to  inquire  about." 

"  I  will  do  my  very  best,  sir." 

"Then,  to  begin  with — who  is  'the  Mas 
ter  '  ? " 

It  betrayed  him  into  darting  a  startled 
glance  at  our  faces,  but  that  was  all.  He  was 
serene  again  in  a  moment,  and  tranquilly 
answered, — 

"I  do  not  know,  sir." 

"  You  do  not  know  ?" 

"I  do  not  know." 


120  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

"  You  are  sure  you  do  not  know  ? " 

He  tried  hard  to  keep  his  eyes  on  mine,  but 
the  strain  was  too  great;  his  chin  sunk  slowly 
toward  his  breast  and  he  was  silent;  he  stood 
there  nervously  fumbling  with  a  button,  an  ob 
ject  to  command  one's  pity,  in  spite  of  his  base 
acts.  Presently  I  broke  the  stillness  with  the 
question,— 

"  Who  are  the  *  Holy  Alliance'  ?  " 

His  body  shook  visibly,  and  he  made  a  slight 
random  gesture  with  his  hands,  which  to  me 
was  like  the  appeal  of  a  despairing  creature  for 
compassion.  But  he  made  no  sound.  He  con 
tinued  to  stand  with  his  face  bent  toward  the 
ground.  As  we  sat  gazing  at  him,  waiting  for 
him  to  speak,  we  saw  the  big  tears  begin  to  roll 
down  his  cheeks.  But  he  remained  silent.  Af 
ter  a  little,  I  said, — 

"  You  must  answer  me,  my  boy,  and  you 
must  tell  me  the  truth.  Who  are  the  Holy  Al 
liance  ?  " 

He  wept  on  in  silence.  Presently  I  said, 
somewhat  sharply,— 

"  Answer  the  question  !  " 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  121 

He  struggled  to  get  command  of  his  voice; 
and  then,  looking  up  appealingly,  forced  the 
words  out  between  his  sobs,— 

"  Oh,  have  pity  on  me,  sir  !       I  cannot  an 
swer  it,  for  I  do  not  know." 
"What!" 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  am  telling  the  truth.  I  never 
have  heard  of  the  Holy  Alliance  till  this  mo 
ment.  On  my  honor,  sir,  this  is  so." 

"  Good  heavens  !  Look  at  this  second 
letter  of  yours ;  there,  do  you  see  those 
words,  '  Holy  Alliance?'  What  do  you  say 
now  ? " 

He  gazed  up  into  my  face  with  the  hurt  look 
of  one  upon  whom  a  great  wrong  had  been 
wrought,  then  said,  feelingly, — 

"  This  is  some  cruel  joke,  sir;  and  how  could 
they  play  it  upon  me,  who  have  tried  all  I 
could  to  do  right,  and  have  never  done  harm 
to  anybody  ?  Some  one  has  counterfeited  my 
hand;  I  never  wrote  a  line  of  this;  I  have 
never  seen  this  letter  before  !  " 

"  Oh,  you  unspeakable  liar  !  Here,  what  do 
you  say  to  this  ?  " — and  I  snatched  the  sympa- 


122  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

thetic-ink  letter  from  my  pocket  and  thrust  it 
before  his  eyes. 

His  face  turned  white  ! — as  white  as  a  dead 
person's.  He  wavered  slightly  in  his  tracks, 
and  put  his  hand  against  the  wall  to  steady 
himself.  After  a  moment  he  asked,  in  so  faint 
a  voice  that  it  was  hardly  audible,— 

"Have  you — read  it  ?  " 

Our  faces  must  have  answered  the  truth  be 
fore  my  lips  could  get  out  a  false  "yes,"  for  I 
distinctly  saw  the  courage  come  back  into  that 
boy's  eyes.  I  waited  for  him  to  say  something, 
but  he  kept  silent.  So  at  last  I  said,— 

"  Well,  what  have  you  to  say  as  to  the  rev 
elations  in  this  letter  ? " 

He  answered,  with  perfect  composure,— 

"Nothing,  except  that  they  are  entirely 
harmless  and  innocent;  they  can  hurt  no 
body." 

I  was  in  something  of  a  corner  now,  as  I 
couldn't  disprove  his  assertion.  I  did  not  know 
exactly  how  to  proceed.  However,  an  idea 
came  to  my  relief,  and  I  said,— 

"  You  are  sure  you  know  nothing  about  the 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  123 

Master  and  the  Holy  Alliance,  and  did  not 
write  the  letter  which  you  say  is  a  forgery  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir — sure." 

I  slowly  drew  out  the  knotted  twine  string 
and  held  it  up  without  speaking.  He  gazed  at 
it  indifferently,  then  looked  at  me  inquiringly. 
My  patience  was  sorely  taxed.  However,  I 
kept  my  temper  down,  and  said  in  my  usual 
voice,— 

"  Wicklow,  do  you  see  this  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  It  seems  to  be  a  piece  of  string." 

"  Seems  ?  It  is  a  piece  of  string.  Do  you 
recognize  it  ? " 

"  No,  sir,"  he  replied,  as  calmly  as  the  words 
could  be  uttered. 

His  coolness  was  perfectly  wonderful  !  I 
paused  now  for  several  seconds,  in  order  that 
the  silence  might  add  impressiveness  to  what 
I  was  about  to  say  ;  then  I  rose  and  laid  my 
hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  said  gravely, — 

"It  will  do  you  no  good,  poor  boy,  none  in 
the  world.  This  sign  to  the  '  Master,'  this 


124  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

knotted  string,  found  in  one  of  the  guns  on  the 
water-front — 

"  Found  in  the  gun  !  Oh,  no,  no,  no  !  do  not 
say  in  the  gun,  but  in  a  crack  in  the  tompion  ! 
— it  must  have  been  in  the  crack  !  "  and  down 
he  went  on  his  knees  and  clasped  his  hands 
and  lifted  up  a  face  that  was  pitiful  to  see, 
so  ashy  it  was,  and  wild  with  terror. 

"  No,  it  was  in  the  gun." 

"  Oh,  something  has  gone  wrong  !  My  God, 
I  am  lost  !  "  and  he  sprang  up  and  darted  this 
way  and  that,  dodging  the  hands  that  were  put 
out  to  catch  him,  and  doing  his  best  to  escape 
from  the  place.  But  of  course  escape  was  im 
possible.  Then  he  flung  himself  on  his  knees 
again,  crying  with  all  his  might,  and  clasped 
me  around  the  legs;  and  so  he  clung  to  me  and 
begged  and  pleaded,  saying,  "  Oh,  have  pity 
on  me  !  Oh,  be  merciful  to  me  !  Do  not  be 
tray  me;  they  would  not  spare  my  life  a  mo 
ment  !  Protect  me,  save  me.  I  will  confess 
everything  !  " 

It  took  us  some  time  to  quiet  him  down 
and  modify  his  fright,  and  get  him  into  some- 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  125 

thing  like  a  rational  frame  of  mind.  Then 
I  began  to  question  him,  he  answering 
humbly,  with  downcast  eyes,  and  from  time 
to  time  swabbing  away  his  constantly  flow 
ing  tears. 

"  So  you  are  at  heart  a  rebel  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  a  spy?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  have  been  acting  under  distinct  or 
ders  from  outside  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Willingly  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Gladly,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;    it  would  do  no  good  to  deny  it. 
The  South  is  my  country  ;  my  heart  is  South-    ' 
ern,  and  it  is  all  in  her  cause." 

"  Then  the  tale  you  told  me  of  your  wrongs 
and  the  persecution  of  your  family  was  made 
up  for  the  occasion  ? " 

"  They — they  told  me  to  say  it,  sir." 
•     "  And  you  would  betray  and  destroy  those 
who  pitied  and  sheltered  you.     Do  you  com- 


126  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

prehend  how  base  you  are,  you  poor  misguided 
thing  ?  " 

He  replied  with  sobs  only. 

"  Well,  let  that  pass.  To  business.  Who  is 
the  '  Colonel,'  and  where  is  he  ?  " 

He  began  to  cry  hard,  and  tried  to  beg  off 
from  answering.  He  said  he  would  be  killed 
if  he  told.  I  threatened  to  put  him  in  the  dark 
cell  and  lock  him  up  if  he  did  not  come  out 
with  the  information.  At  the  same  time  I 
promised  to  protect  him  from  all  harm  if  he 
made  a  clean  breast.  For  all  answer,  he  closed 
his  mouth  firmly  and  put  on  a  stubborn  air 
which  I  could  not  bring  him  out  of.  At  last  I 
started  with  him;  but  a  single  glance  into  the 
dark  cell  converted  him.  He  broke  into  a 
passion  of  weeping  and  supplicating,  and  de 
clared  he  would  tell  everything. 

So  I  brought  him  back,  and  he  named  the 
''Colonel,"  and  described  him  particularly. 
Said  he  would  be  found  at  the  principal  hotel 
in  the  town,  in  citizen's  dress.  I  had  to 
threaten  him  again,  before  he  would  describe 
and  name  the  "  Master."  Said  the  Master 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  I2/ 

would  be  found  at  No.  15  Bond  Street,  New 
York,  passing  under  the  name  of  R.  F.  Gay- 
lord.  I  telegraphed  name  and  description  to 
the  chief  of  police  of  the  metropolis,  and  asked 
that  Gaylord  be  arrested  and  held  till  I  could 
send  for  him. 

"  Now,"  said  I,  "  it  seems  that  there  are  sev 
eral  of  the  conspirators  '  outside,'  presumably 
in  New  London.  Name  and  describe  them." 

He  named  and  described  three  men  and  two 
women, — all  stopping  at  the  principal  hotel.  I 
sent  out  quietly,  and  had  them  and  the  "  Colo 
nel  "  arrested  and  confined  in  the  fort. 

"  Next,  I  want  to  know  all  about  your  three 
fellow-conspirators  who  are  here  in  the  fort." 

He  was  about  to  dodge  me  with  a  falsehood, 
I  thought;  but  I  produced  the  mysterious  bits 
of  paper  which  had  been  found  upon  two  of 
them,  and  this  had  a  salutary  effect  upon  him. 
I  said  we  had  possession  of  two  of  the  men,  and 
he  must  point  out  the  third.  This  frightened 
him  badly,  and  he  cried  out,— 

"  Oh,  please  don't  make  me  ;  he  would  kill 
me  on  the  spot  !  " 


128  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

I  said  that  that  was  all  nonsense;  I  would 
have  somebody  near  by  to  protect  him,  and, 
besides,  the  men  should  be  assembled  without 
arms.  I  ordered  all  the  raw  recruits  to  be 
mustered,  and  then  the  poor  trembling  little 
wretch  went  out  and  stepped  along  down  the 
line,  trying  to  look  as  indifferent  as  possible. 
Finally  he  spoke  a  single  word  to  one  of  the 
men,  and  before  he  had  gone  five  steps  the 
man  was  under  arrest. 

As  soon  as  Wicklow  was  with  us  again,  I 
had  those  three  men  brought  in.  I  made  one 
of  them  stand  forward,  and  said, — 

"  Now,  Wicklow,  mind,  not  a  shade's  diver 
gence  from  the  exact  truth.  Who  is  this  man, 
and  what  do  you  know  about  him  ? " 

Being  "  in  for  it,"  he  cast  consequences  aside, 
fastened  his  eyes  on  the  man's  face,  and  spoke 
straight  along  without  hesitation, — to  the  fol 
lowing  effect. 

"  His  real  name  is  George  Bristow.  He  is 
from  New  Orleans;  was  second  mate  of  the 
coast-packet  '  Capitol,'  two  years  ago  ;  is  a 
desperate  character,  and  has  served  two  terms 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  I2Q 

for  manslaughter, — one  for  killing  a  deck-hand 
named  Hyde  with  a  capstan-bar,  and  one  for 
killing  a  roustabout  for  refusing  to  heave  the 
lead,  which  is  no  part  of  a  roustabout's  busi 
ness.  He  is  a  spy,  and  was  sent  here  by  the 
Colonel,  to  act  in  that  capacity.  He  was  third 
mate  of  the  *  St.  Nicholas,'  when  she  blew  up 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Memphis,  in  '58,  and 
came  near  being  lynched  for  robbing  the  dead 
and  wounded  while  they  were  being  taken 
ashore  in  an  empty  wood-boat." 

And  so  forth  and  so  on — he  gave  the  man's 
biography  in  full.  When  he  had  finished,  I 
said  to  the  man,— 

4 'What  have  you  to  say  to  this?" 

"  Barring  your  presence,  sir,  it  is  the  infer- 
nalest  lie  that  ever  was  spoke  !  " 

I  sent  him  back  into  confinement,  and  called 
the  others  forward  in  turn.  Same  result.  The 
boy  gave  a  detailed  history  of  each,  without 
ever  hesitating  for  a  word  or  a  fact;  but  all  I 
could  get  out  of  either  rascal  was  the  indignant 
assertion  that  it  was  all  a  lie.  They  would 
confess  nothing.  I  returned  them  to  captivity, 


130  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

and  brought  out  the  rest  of  my  prisoners,  one 
by  one.  Wicklow  told  all  about  them — what 
towns  in  the  South  they  were  from,  and  every 
detail  of  their  connection  with  the  con 
spiracy. 

But  they  all  denied  his  facts,  and  not  one  of 
them  confessed  a  thing.  The  men  raged,  the 
women  cried.  According  to  their  stories, 
they  were  all  innocent  people  from  out  West, 
and  loved  the  Union  above  all  things  in  this 
world.  I  locked  the  gang  up,  in  disgust,  and 
fell  to  catechising  Wicklow  once  more. 
"Where  is  No.  166,  and  who  is  B.  B.?" 
But  tJicre  he  was  determined  to  draw  the 
line.  Neither  coaxing  nor  threats  had  any 
effect  upon  him.  Time  was  flying — it  was 
necessary  to  institute  sharp  measures.  So  I 
tied  him  up  a-tiptoe  by  the  thumbs.  As  the 
pain  increased,  it  wrung  screams  from  him 
which  were  almost  more  than  I  could  bear. 
But  I  held  my  ground,  and  pretty  soon  he 
shrieked  out, — 

"  Oh,  please  let  me  down,  and  I  will  tell ! " 
"No — you'll  tell  before  I  let  you  clown." 


A   CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE.  131 

Every  instant  was  agony  to  him,  now,  so  out 
it  came,— 

"No.  166,  Eagle  Hotel!" — naming  a  wretch 
ed  tavern  down  by  the  water,  a  resort  of  com 
mon  laborers,  'longshoremen,  and  less  rep 
utable  folk. 

So  I  released  him,  and  then  demanded  to 
know  the  object  of  the  conspiracy. 

"  To  take  the  fort  to-night,"  said  he,  dog 
gedly  and  sobbing. 

"Have  I  got  all  the  chiefs  of  the  conspiracy?" 

"  No.  You've  got  all  except  those  that  are 
to  meet  at  166." 

"What  does  'Remember  XXXX'  mean?" 

No  reply. 

"What  is  the  password  to  No.  166?" 

No  reply. 

"What  do  those  bunches  of  letters  mean,— 
'FFFFF'  and  'MMMM'?  Answer!  or  you 
will  catch  it  again." 

"  I  never  will  answer  !  I  will  die  first.  Now 
do  what  you  please." 

"  Think  what  you  are  saying,  Wicklow.  Is 
it  final  ? " 


132  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

He  answered  steadily,  and  without  a  quiver 
in  his  voice, — 

"It  is  final.  As  sure  as  I  love  my  wronged 
country  and  hate  everything  this  Northern 
sun  shines  on,  I  will  die  before  I  will  reveal 
those  things." 

I  triced  him  up  by  the  thumbs  again.  When 
the  agony  was  full  upon  him,  it  was  heart 
breaking  to  hear  the  poor  thing's  shrieks,  but 
we  got  nothing  else  out  of  him.  To  every 
question  he  screamed  the  same  reply  :  "  I  can 
die,  and  I  will  die;  but  I  will  never  tell." 

Well,  we  had  to  give  it  -up.  We  were  con 
vinced  that  he  certainly  would  die  rather  than 
confess.  So  we  took  him  down  and  imprisoned 
him,  under  strict  guard. 

Then  for  some  hours  we  busied  ourselves 
with  sending  telegrams  to  the  War  Depart 
ment,  and  with  making  preparations  for  a  de 
scent  upon  No.  166. 

It  was  stirring  times,  that  black  and  bitter 
night.  Things  had  leaked  out,  and  the  whole 
garrison  was  on  the  alert.  The  sentinels  were 
trebled,  and  nobody  could  move,  outside  or  in, 


A    CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE.  133 

without  being  brought  to  a  stand  with  a  mus 
ket  levelled  at  his  head.  However,  Webb  and 
I  were  less  concerned  now  than  we  had  pre 
viously  been,  because  of  the  fact  that  the  con 
spiracy  must  necessarily  be  in  a  pretty  crippled 
condition,  since  so  many  of  its  principals  were 
in  our  clutches. 

I  determined  to  be  at  No.  166  in  good  sea 
son,  capture  and  gag  B.  B.,  and  be  on  hand 
for  the  rest  when  they  arrived.  At  about  a 
quarter  past  one  in  the  morning  I  crept  out  of 
the  fortress  with  half  a  dozen  stalwart  and 
gamy  U.  S.  regulars  at  my  heels — and  the  boy 
Wicklow,  with  his  hands  tied  behind  him.  I 
told  him  we  were  going  to  No.  166,  and  that  if 
I  found  he  had  lied  again  and  was  misleading 
us,  he  would  have  to  show  us  the  right  place 
or  suffer  the  consequences. 

We  approached  the  tavern  stealthily  and 
reconnoitred.  A  light  was  burning  in  the 
small  bar-room,  the  rest  of  the  house  was 
dark.  I  tried  the  front  door;  it  yielded,  and 
we  softly  entered,  closing  the  door  behind  us. 
Then  we  removed  our  shoes,  and  I  led  the 


134  A   CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE. 

way  to  the  bar-room.  The  German  landlord 
sat  there,  asleep  in  his  chair.  I  woke  him 
gently,  and  told  him  to  take  off  his  boots  and 
precede  us;  warning  him  at  the  same  time  to 
utter  no  sound.  He  obeyed  without  a  mur 
mur,  but  evidently  he  was  badly  frightened. 
I  ordered  him  to  lead  the  way  to  166.  We 
ascended  two  or  three  flights  of  stairs  as  softly 
as  a  file  of  cats;  and  then,  having  arrived  near 
the  farther  end  of  a  long  hall,  we  came  to  a 
door  through  the  glazed  transom  of  which  we 
could  discern  the  glow  of  a  dim  light  from 
within.  The  landlord  felt  for  me  in  the  dark 
and  whispered  me  that  that  was  166.  I  tried 
the  door — it  was  locked  on  the  inside.  I  whis 
pered  an  order  to  one  of  my  biggest  soldiers; 
we  set  our  ample  shoulders  to  the  door  and 
with  one  heave  we  burst  it  from  its  hinges.  I 
caught  a  half-glimpse  of  a  figure  in  a  bed- 
saw  its  head  dart  toward  the  candle;  out  went 
the  light,  and  we  were  in  pitch  darkness. 
With  one  big  bound  I  lit  on  that  bed  and 
pinned  its  occupant  down  with  my  knees.  My 
prisoner  struggled  fiercely,  but  I  got  a  grip  on 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  135 

his  throat  with  my  left  hand,  and  that  was  a 
good  assistance  to  my  knees  in  holding  him 
down.  Then  straightway  I  snatched  out  my 
revolver,  cocked  it,  and  laid  the  cold  barrel 
warningly  against  his  cheek. 

''Now  somebody  strike  a  light!"  said  I. 
"  I've  got  him  safe." 

It  was  done.  The  flame  of  the  match  burst 
up.  I  looked  at  my  captive,  and,  by  George, 
it  was  a  young  woman  ! 

I  let  go  and  got  off  the  bed,  feeling  pretty 
sheepish.  Everybody  stared  stupidly  at  his 
neighbor.  Nobody  had  any  wit  or  sense  left, 
so  sudden  and  overwhelming  had  been  the 
surprise.  The  young  woman  began  to  cry, 
and  covered  her  face  with  the  sheet.  The 
landlord  said,  meekly,— 

"My  daughter,  she  has  been  doing  some 
thing  that  is  not  right,  nicht  wahr?" 

"Your  daughter?     Is  she  your  daughter?" 

"Oh,  yes,  she  is  my  daughter.  She  is  just 
to-night  come  home  from  Cincinnati  a  little 
bit  sick." 

"Confound  it,  that  boy  has  lied  again.    This 


136  A   CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE. 

is  not  the  right  166;  this  is  not  B.  B.  Now, 
Wicklow,  you  will  find  the  correct  166  for  us, 
or — hello  !  where  is  that  boy  ?  " 

Gone,  as  sure  as  guns  !  And,  what  is  more, 
we  failed  to  find  a  trace  of  him.  Here  was  an 
awkward  predicament.  I  cursed  my  stupidity 
in  not  tying  him  to  one  of  the  men;  but  it  was 
of  no  use  to  bother  about  that  now.  What 
should  I  do  in  the  present  circumstances  ? — 
that  was  the  question.  That  girl  might  be 
B.  B.,  after  all.  I  did  not  believe  it,  but  still  it 
would  not  answer  to  take  unbelief  for  proof. 
So  I  finally  put  my  men  in  a  vacant  room 
across  the  hall  from  166,  and  told  them  to  cap 
ture  anybody  and  everybody  that  approached 
the  girl's  room,  and  to  keep  the  landlord  with 
them,  and  under  strict  watch,  until  further  or 
ders.  Then  I  hurried  back  to  the  fort  to  see 
if  all  was  right  there  yet. 

Yes,  all  was  right.  And  all  remained  right. 
I  stayed  up  all  night  to  make  sure  of  that. 
Nothing  happened.  I  was  unspeakably  glad 
to  see  the  dawn  come  again,  and  be  able 
to  telegraph  the  Department  that  the  Stars 


A   CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE.  137 

and    Stripes    still    floated    over    Fort    Trum- 
bull. 

An  immense  pressure  was  lifted  from  my 
breast.  Still  I  did  not  relax  vigilance,  of 
course,  nor  effort  either;  the  case  was  too 
grave  for  that.  I  had  up  my  prisoners,  one  by 
one,  and  harried  them  by  the  hour,  trying  to 
get  them  to  confess,  but  it  was  a  failure.  They 
only  gnashed  their  teeth  and  tore  their  hair, 
and  revealed  nothing. 

About  noon  came  tidings  of  my  missing  boy. 
He  had  been  seen  on  the  road,  tramping  west 
ward,  some  eight  miles  out,  at  six  in  the  morn 
ing.  I  started  a  cavalry  lieutenant  and  a  pri 
vate  on  his  track  at  once.  They  came  in  sight 
of  him  twenty  miles  out.  He  had  climbed  a 
fence  and  was  wearily  dragging  himself  across 
a  slushy  field  toward  a  large  old-fashioned 
mansion  in  the  edge  of  a  village.  They  rode 
through  a  bit  of  woods,  made  a  detour,  and 
closed  up  on  the  house  from  the  opposite  side; 
then  dismounted  and  skurried  into  the  kitchen. 
Nobody  there.  They  slipped  into  the  next 
room,  which  was  also  unoccupied;  the  door 


138  A   CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE. 

from  that  room  into  the  front  or  sitting  room 
was  open.  They  were  about  to  step  through 
it  when  they  heard  a  low  voice;  it  was  some 
body  praying.  So  they  halted  reverently,  and 
the  lieutenant  put  his  head  in  and  saw  an  old 
man  and  an  old  woman  kneeling  in  a  corner 
of  that  sitting-room.  It  was  the  old  man  that 
was  praying,  and  just  as  he  was  finishing  his 
prayer,  the  Wicklow  boy  opened  the  front 
door  and  stepped  in.  Both  of  those  old  people 
sprang  at  him  and  smothered  him  with  em 
braces,  shouting, — 

"Our  boy!  our  darling!  God  be  praised. 
The  lost  is  found  !  He  that  was  dead  is  alive 
again ! " 

Well,  sir,  what  do  you  think !  That  young 
imp  was  born  and  reared  on  that  homestead, 
and  had  never  been  five  miles  away  from  it  in 
all  his  life,  till  the  fortnight  before  he  loafed 
into  my  quarters  and  gulled  me  with  that 
maudlin  yarn  of  his  !  It's  as  true  as  gospel. 
That  old  man  was  his  father — a  learned  old 
retired  clergyman;  and  that  old  lady  was  his 
mother. 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  139 

Let  me  throw  in  a  word  or  two  of  explana 
tion  concerning  that  boy  and  his  performances. 
It  turned  out  that  he  was  a  ravenous  devourer 
of  dime  novels  and  sensation-story  papers — 
therefore,  dark  mysteries  and  gaudy  heroisms 
were  just  in  his  line.  Then  he  had  read  news 
paper  reports  of  the  stealthy  goings  and  com 
ings  of  rebel  spies  in  our  midst,  and  of  their 
lurid  purposes  and  their  two  or  three  startling 
achievements,  till  his  imagination  was  all 
aflame  on  that  subject.  His  constant  comrade 
for  some  months  had  been  a  Yankee  youth  of 
much  tongue  and  lively  fancy,  who  had  served 
for  a  couple  of  years  as  "mud  clerk"  (that  is, 
subordinate  purser)  on  certain  of  the  packet- 
boats  plying  between  New  Orleans  and  points 
two  or  three  hundred  miles  up  the  Mississippi 
— hence  his  easy  facility  in  handling  the  names 
and  other  details  pertaining  to  that  region. 
Now  I  had  spent  two  or  three  months  in  that 
part  of  the  country  before  the  war;  and  I  knew 
just  enough  about  it  to  be  easily  taken  in  by 
that  boy,  whereas  a  born  Louisianian  would 
probably  have  caught  him  tripping  before  he 


140  A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE. 

had  talked  fifteen  minutes.  Do  you  know  the 
reason  he  said  he  would  rather  die  than  ex 
plain  certain  of  his  treasonable  enigmas  ? 
Simply  because  he  could  n't  explain  them  !— 
they  had  no  meaning;  he  had  fired  them  out 
of  his  imagination  without  forethought  or  after 
thought;  and  so,  upon  sudden  call,  he  was  n't 
able  to  invent  an  explanation  of  them.  For 
instance,  he  could  n't  reveal  what  was  hidden 
in  the  " sympathetic  ink"  letter,  for  the  ample 
reason  that  there  was  n't  anything  hidden  in 
it;  it  was  blank  paper  only.  He  had  n't  put 
anything  into  a  gun,  and  had  never  intended 
to — for  his  letters  were  all  written  to  imaginary 
persons,  and  when  he  hid  one  in  the  stable  he 
always  removed  the  one  he  had  put  there  the 
day  before;  so  he  was  not  acquainted  with 
that  knotted  string,  since  he  was  seeing  it  for 
the  first  time  when  I  showed  it  to  him;  but  as 
soon  as  I  had  let  him  find  out  where  it  came 
from,  he  straightway  adopted  it,  in  his  roman 
tic  fashion,  and  got  some  fine  effects  out  of  it. 
He  invented  Mr.  "  Gaylord  ; "  there  was  n't 
any  15  Bond  Street,  just  then — it  had  been 


A   CURIOUS   EXPERIENCE.  141 

pulled  down  three  months  before.  He  in 
vented  the  " Colonel;"  he  invented  the  glib 
histories  of  those  unfortunates  whom  I  cap 
tured  and  confronted  with  him;  he  invented 
"  B.  B.;"  he  even  invented  No.  166,  one  may 
say,  for  he  did  n't  know  there  was  such  a 
number  in  the  Eagle  Hotel  until  we  went 
there.  He  stood  ready  to  invent  anybody  or 
anything  whenever  it  was  wanted.  If  I  called 
for  "  outside"  spies,  he  promptly  described 
strangers  whom  he  had  seen  at  the  hotel,  and 
whose  names  he  had  happened  to  hear.  Ah, 
he  lived  in  a  gorgeous,  mysterious,  romantic 
world  during  those  few  stirring  days,  and  I 
think  it  was  real  to  him,  and  that  he  enjoyed 
it  clear  down  to  the  bottom  of  his  heart. 

But  he  made  trouble  enough  for  us,  and  just 
no  end  of  humiliation.  You  see,  on  account 
of  him  we  had  fifteen  or  twenty  people  under 
arrest  and  confinement  in  the  fort,  with  senti 
nels  before  their  doors.  A  lot  of  the  captives 
were  soldiers  and  such,  and  to  them  I  did  n't 
have  to  apologize;  but  the  rest  were  first-class 
citizens,  from  all  over  the  country,  and  no 


142  A   CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE. 

amount  of  apologies  was  sufficient  to  satisfy 
them.  They  just  fumed  and  raged  and  made 
no  end  of  trouble  !  And  those  two  ladies, — 
one  was  an  Ohio  Congressman's  wife,  the  other 
a  Western  bishop's  sister, — well,  the  scorn  and 
ridicule  and  angry  tears  they  poured  out  on 
me  made  up  a  keepsake  that  was  likely  to 
make  me  remember  them  for  a  considerable 
time, — and  I  shall.  That  old  lame  gentleman 
with  the  goggles  was  a  college  president  from 
Philadelphia,  who  had  come  up  to  attend  his 
nephew's  funeral.  He  had  never  seen  young 
Wicklow  before,  of  course.  Well,  he  not  only 
missed  the  funeral,  and  got  jailed  as  a  rebel 
spy,  but  Wicklow  had  stood  up  there  in  my 
quarters  and  coldly  described  him  as  a  counter 
feiter,  nigger-trader,  horse-thief,  and  fire-bug 
)  \i 

from  the  most  notorious  rascal-nest  in  Galves- 

ton;  and  this  was  a  thing  which  that  poor  old 
gentleman  could  n't  seem  to  get  over  at  all. 

And    the    War    Department !      But,    O   my 
soul,  let's  draw  the  curtain  over  that  part ! 

NOTE. — I  showed  my  manuscript  to  the  Major,  and  he 
said:     "  Your  unfamiliarity  with  military  matters  has  be- 


A   CURIOUS    EXPERIENCE.  143 

trayed  you  into  some  little  mistakes.  Still,  they  are  pic 
turesque  ones — let  them  go;  military  men  will  smile  at 
them,  the  rest  won't  detect  them.  You  have  got  the  main 
facts  of  the  history  right,  and  have  set  them  down  just 
about  as  they  occurred." — M.  T. 


MRS.    McWILLIAMS    AND    THE 
LIGHTNING. 

\~\TEL~L,  sir, — continued  Mr.  McWilliams, 
*  *  for  this  was  not  the  beginning  of  his 
talk; — the  fear  of  lightning  is  one  of  the  most 
distressing  infirmities  a  human  being  can  be 
afflicted  with.  It  is  mostly  confined  to  women; 
but  now  and  then  you  find  it  in  a  little  dog, 
and  sometimes  in  a  man.  It  is  a  particularly 
distressing  infirmity,  for  the  reason  that  it 
takes  the  sand  out  of  a  person  to  an  extent 
which  no  other  fear  can,  and  it  can't  be  rea 
soned  with,  and  neither  can  it  be  shamed  out 
of  a  person.  A  woman  who  could  face  the 
very  devil  himself — or  a  mouse — loses  her  grip 
and  goes  all  to  pieces  in  front  of  a  flash  of 
lightning.  Her  fright  is  something  pitiful  to 
see. 

Well,  as  I  was  telling  you,  I  woke  up,  with 

that  smothered  and  unlocatable  cry  of  "  Mor- 
144 


MRS.   McWILLIAMS.  H5 

timer  !  Mortimer  !  "  wailing  in  my  ears  ;  and 
as  soon  as  I  could  scrape  my  faculties  together 
I  reached  over  in  the  dark  and  then  said, — 

"  Evangeline,  is  that  you  calling  ?  What  is 
the  matter  ?  Where  are  you  ?  " 

"  Shut  up  in  the  boot-closet.  You  ought  to 
be  ashamed  to  lie  there  and  sleep  so,  and  such 
an  awful  storm  going  on." 

"  Why,  how  can  one  be  ashamed  when  he  is    / 
asleep  ?     It  is   unreasonable  ;   a  man  cant  be 
ashamed  when  he  is  asleep,  Evangeline." 

"  You  never  try,  Mortimer, — you  know  very 
well  you  never  try." 

I  caught  the  sound  of  muffled  sobs. 

That  sound  smote  dead  the  sharp  speech 
that  was  on  my  lips,  and  I  changed  it  to — 

"I'm  sorry,  dear, — I'm  truly  sorry.  I  never 
meant  to  act  so.  Come  back  and — " 

"  MORTIMER  ! " 

"  Heavens  !  what  is  the  matter,  my  love  ? " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  are  in  that  bed 
yet  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course." 

"  Come  out  of  it  instantly.     I  should  think 


146  MRS.   McWILLIAMS 

you  would  take  some  little  care  of  your  life,  for 
my  sake  and  the  children's,  if  you  will  not  for 
your  own." 

"  But  my  love— - 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  Mortimer.  You  know 
there  is  no  place  so  dangerous  as  a  bed,  in 
such  a  thunder-storm  as  this, — all  the  books 
say  that ;  yet  there  you  would  lie,  and  deliber 
ately  throw  away  your  life, — for  goodness 
knows  what,  unless  for  the  sake  of  arguing  and 
arguing,  and — 

"  But,  confound  it,  Evangeline,  I'm  not  in  the 
bed,  now.  I'm — 

[Sentence  interrupted  by  a  sudden  glare  of 
lightning,  followed  by  a  terrified  little  scream 
from  Mrs.  McWilliams  and  a  tremendous  blast 
of  thunder.] 

"  There  !  You  see  the  result.  Oh,  Morti 
mer,  how  can  you  be  so  profligate  as  to  swear 
at  such  a  time  as  this  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  swear.  And  that  was  nt  a  result 
of  it,  any  way.  It  would  have  come,  just  the 
same,  if  I  had  n't  said  a  word  ;  and  you  know 
very  well,  Evangeline, — at  least  you  ought  to 


AND  THE  LIGHTNING.'  147 

know,- — that  when  the  atmosphere  is  charged 
with  electricity— 

"  Oh,  yes,  now  argue  it,  and  argue  it,  and 
argue  it  ! — I  don't  see  how  you  can  act  so, 
when  you  know  there  is  not  a  lightning-rod  on 
the  place,  and  your  poor  wife  and  children  are 
absolutely  at  the  mercy  of  Providence.  What 
are  you  doing  ? — lighting  a  match  at  such  a 
time  as  this  !  Are  you  stark  mad  ?  " 

"  Hang  it,  woman,  where's  the  harm  ?  The 
place  is  as  dark  as  the  inside  of  an  infidel, 
and—" 

"  Put  it  out  !  put  it  out  instantly  !  Are  you 
determined  to  sacrifice  us  all  ?  You  know  there 
is  nothing  attracts  lightning  like  a  light.  \Fst! 
— crash  !  boom  —  boloom-boom-boom  /]  Oh, 
just  hear  it  !  Now  you  see  what  you've 
done ! " 

"  No,  I  don't  see  what  I've  done.  A  match 
may  attract  lightning,  for  all  I  know,  but  it 
don't  cause  lightning, — I'll  go  odds  on  that. 
And  it  didn't  attract  it  worth  a  cent  this  time  ; 
for  if  that  shot  was  levelled  at  my  match,  it 
was  blessed  poor  marksmanship, — about  f  an 


148  MRS.   McWILLIAMS 

average  of  none  out  of  a  possible  million,  I 
should  say.  Why,  at  Dollymount,  such  marks 
manship  as  that  — 

"  For  shame,  Mortimer  !  Here  we  are 
standing  right  in  the  very  presence  of  death, 
and  yet  in  so  solemn  a  moment  you  are  ca 
pable  of  using  such  language  as  that.  If  you 
have  no  desire  to  —  Mortimer  !  " 

"Well?" 

"  Did  you  say  your  prayers  to-night  ?" 

"I  —  I  —  meant  to,  but  I  got  to  trying  to 
cipher,  out  how  much  twelve  times  thirteen  is, 
and— 

\Fzt  !  —  boom-berroom-boom  !     bumble-nuible 


"Oh,  we  are  lost,  beyond  all  help!  How 
could  you  neglect  such  a  thing  at  such  a  time 
as  this  ?" 

"  But  it  was  rit  (  such  a  time  as  this.'  There 
was  n't  a  cloud  in  the  sky.  How  could  /know 
there  was  going  to  be  all  this  rumpus  and  pow 
wow  about  a  little  slip  like  that?  And  I  don't 
think  it's  just  fair  for  you  to  make  so  much  out 
of  it,  any  way,  seeing  it  happens  so  seldom;  I 


AND  THE  LIGHTNING.  H9 

have  n't  missed  before  since  I  brought  on  that 
earthquake,  four  years  ago." 

"MORTIMER!  How  you  talk!  Have  you 
forgotten  the  yellow  fever  ?" 

"My  dear,  you  are  always  throwing  up  the 
yellow  fever  to  me,  and  I  think  it  is  perfectly 
unreasonable.  You  can't  even  send  a  tele 
graphic  message  as  far  as  Memphis  without 
relays,  so  how  is  a  little  devotional  slip  of 
mine  going  to  carry  so  far  ?  I'll  stand  the 
earthquake,  because  it  was  in  the  neighbor-^ 
hood;  but  I'll  be  hanged  if  I'm  going  to  be  re 
sponsible  for  every  blamed — 

\Fzt  ! — BOOM  &erwm-boom  !  boom!  — 
BANG!] 

"  Oh,  dear,  dear,  dear  !  I  know  it  struck 
something,  Mortimer.  We  never  shall  see  the 
light  of  another  day;  and  if  it  will  do  you  any 
good  to  remember,  when  we  are  gone,  that 
your  dreadful  language — Mortimer  /" 

"  WELL  !     What  now  ?" 

"Your  voice  sounds  as  if—  Mortimer,  are 
you  actually  standing  in  front  of  that  open 
fireplace  ?" 


ISO  MRS.  McWILLIAMS 

"  That  is  the  very  crime  I  am  committing." 

"Get  away  from  it,  this  moment.  You  do 
seem  determined  to  bring  destruction  on  us 
all.  Don't  you  know  that  there  is  no  better 
conductor  for  lightning  than  an  open  chimney? 
Now  where  have  you  got  to  ?" 

"  I'm  here  by  the  window." 

"  Oh,  for  pity's  sake,  have  you  lost  your 
mind  ?  Clear  out  from  there,  this  moment. 
The  very  children  in  arms  know  it  is  fatal  to 
stand  near  a  window  in  a  thunder-storm. 
Dear,  dear,  I  know  I  shall  never  see  the  light 
of  another  day.  Mortimer  ?" 

"  Yes?" 

''What  is  that  rustling  ?" 

"  It's  me." 

"  What  are  you  doing?" 

"Trying  to  find  the  upper  end  of  my  panta 
loons." 

"  Quick  !  throw  those  things  away  !  I  do 
believe  you  would  deliberately  put  on  those 
clothes  at  such  a  time  as  this;  yet  you  know 
perfectly  well  that  all  authorities  agree  that 
woolen  stuffs  attract  lightning.  Oh,  dear, 


AND  THE  LIGHTNING.  151 

dear,  it  isn't  sufficient  that  one's  life  must  be  in 
peril  from  natural  causes,  but  you  must  do 
everything  you  can  possibly  think  of  to  aug 
ment  the  danger.  Oh,  dorit  sing  !  What  can 
you  be  thinking  of?" 

"  Now  where's  the  harm  in  it  ?" 

"  Mortimer,  if  I  have  told  you  once,  I  have 
told  you  a  hundred  times,  that  singing  causes 
vibrations  in  the  atmosphere  which  interrupt 
the  flow  of  the  electric  fluid,  and—  What  on 
earth  are  you  opening  that  door  for  ?" 

"Goodness  gracious,  woman,  is  there  is  any 
harm  in  that  ?" 

"  Harm  ?  There's  death  in  it.  Anybody 
that  has  given  this  subject  any  attention  knows 
that  to  create  a  draught  is  to  invite  the  light 
ning.  You  have  n't  half  shut  it;  shut  it  tight  > 
— and  do  hurry,  or  we  are  all  destroyed.  Oh, 
it  is  an  awful  thing  to  be  shut  up  with  a  lunatic 
at  such  a  time  as  this.  Mortimer,  what  are  you 
doing  ?" 

"  Nothing.  Just  turning  on  the  water. 
This  room  is  smothering  hot  and  close.  I 
want  to  bathe  my  face  and  hands." 


152  MRS.   McWILLIAMS 

"  You  have  certainly  parted  with  the  rem 
nant  of  your  mind  !  Where  lightning  strikes 
any  other  substance  once,  it  strikes  water  fifty 
times.  Do  turn  it  off.  Oh,  dear,  I  am  sure 
that  nothing  in  this  world  can  save  us.  It  does 
seem  to  me  that —  Mortimer,  what  was  that  ?  " 

"  It  was  a  da —  it  was  a  picture.  Knocked 
it  down." 

"Then  you  are  close  to  the  wall!  I  never 
heard  of  such  imprudence  !  Don't  you  know 
that  there's  no  better  conductor  for  lightning 
than  a  wall  ?  Come  away  from  there  !  And 
you  came  as  near  as  anything  to  swearing, 
too.  Oh,  how  can  you  be  so  desperately 
wicked,  and  your  family  in  such  peril  ?  Mor 
timer,  did  you  order  a  feather  bed,  as  I  asked 
you  to  do  ?" 

"No.     Forgot  it." 

"  Forgot  it !  It  may  cost  you  your  life.  If 
you  had  a  feather  bed,  now,  and  could  spread 
it  in  the  middle  of  the  room  and  lie  on  it,  you 
would  be  perfectly  safe.  Come  in  here,— 
come  quick,  before  you  have  a  chance  to  com 
mit  any  more  frantic  indiscretions." 


AND  THE  LIGHTNING.  153 

I  tried,  but  the  little  closet  would  not  hold 
us  both  with  the  door  shut,  unless  we  could  be 
content  to  smother.  I  gasped  awhile,  then 
forced  my  way  out.  My  wife  called  out, — 

"  Mortimer,  something  must  be  done  for 
your  preservation.  Give  me  that  German  book 
that  is  on  the  end  of  the  mantel-piece,  and  a 
candle;  but  don't  light  it;  give  me  a  match;  I 
will  light  it  in  here.  That  book  has  some 
directions  in  it." 

I  got  the  book, — at  cost  of  a  vase  and  some 
other  brittle  things;  and  the  madam  shut  her 
self  up  with  her  candle.  I  had  a  moment's 
peace;  then  she  called  out,— 

"  Mortimer,  what  was  that?" 

"  Nothing  but  the  cat." 

"The  cat!  Oh,  destruction!  Catch  her, 
and  shut  her  up  in  the  wash-stand.  Do  be 
quick,  love;  cats  are  full  of  electricity.  I  just 
know  my  hair  will  turn  white  with  this  night's 
awful  perils." 

I  heard  the  muffled  sobbings  again.  But  for 
that,  I  should  not  have  moved  hand  or  foot  in 
such  a  wild  enterprise  in  the  dark. 


154  MRS.   McWILLIAMS 

However,  I  went  at  my  task, — over  chairs, 
and  against  all  sorts  of  obstructions,  all  of 
them  hard  ones,  too,  and  most  of  them  with 
sharp  edges, — and  at  last  I  got  kitty  cooped 
up  in  the  commode,  at  an  expense  of  over  four 
hundred  dollars  in  broken  furniture  and  shins. 
Then  these  muffled  words  came  from  the 
closet:— 

"  It  says  the  safest  thing  is  to  stand  on  a 
chair  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  Mortimer;  and 
the  legs  of  the  chair  must  be  insulated,  with 
non-conductors.  That  is,  you  must  set  the 
legs  of  the  chair  in  glass  tumblers.  \Fzt  /— 
boom — bang  ! — smash  /]  Oh,  hear  that !  Do 
hurry,  Mortimer,  before  you  are  struck." 

I  managed  to  find  and  secure  the  tumblers. 
I  got  the  last  four, — broke  all  the  rest.  I  in 
sulated  the  chair  legs,  and  called  for  further 
instructions. 

"  Mortimer,  it  says,  '  Wahrend  eines  Gewit- 
ters  entferne  man  Metalle,  wie  z.  B.,  Ringe, 
Uhren,  Schliissel,  etc.,  von  sich  und  halte  sich 
auch  nicht  an  solchen  Stellen  auf,  wo  viele 
Metalle  bei  einander  liegen,  oder  mit  andern 


AND  THE  LIGHTNING.  155 

Korpern  verbunden  sincl,  wie  an  Herden, 
Oefe'n,  Eisengittern  u.  dgl.'  What  does  that 
mean,  Mortimer  ?  Does  it  mean  that  you 
must  keep  metals  aboiityou,  or  keep  them  away 
from  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  hardly  know.  It  appears  to  be  a 
little  mixed.  All  German  advice  is  more  or 
less  mixed.  However,  I  think  that  that  sen 
tence  is  mostly  in  the  dative  case,  with  a  little 
genitive  and  accusative  sifted  in,  here  and 
there,  for  luck  ;  so  I  reckon  it  means  that  you  \/ 
must  keep  some  metals  about  you." 

"  Yes,  that  must  be  it.     It  stands  to  reason 
that  it  is.     They  are  in  the  nature  of  lightning- 
rods,  you  know.     Put   on  your  fireman's  hel-  >/ 
met,  Mortimer  ;  that  is  mostly  metal." 

I  got  it  and  put  it  on, — a  very  heavy  and 
clumsy  and  uncomfortable  thing  on  a  hot  night 
in  a  close  room.  Even  my  night-dress  seemed 
to  be  more  clothing  than  I  strictly  needed. 

"  Mortimer,  I  think  your  middle  ought  to  be 
protected.  Won't  you  buckle  on  your  militia 
sabre,  please  ?  " 

I  complied. 


15  MRS.   McWILLIAMS 

"  Now,  Mortimer,  you  ought  to  have  some 
way  to  protect  your  feet.  Do  please  put  on 
your  spurs." 

I  did  it, — in  silence,— and  kept  my  temper 
as  well  as  I  could. 

"Mortimer,  it  says,  '  Das  Gewitter  lauten  ist 
sehr  gefahrlich,  weil  die  Glocke  selbst,  sowie 
der  durch  das  Lauten  veranlasste  Luftzug  und 
die  Hohe  des  Thurmes  den  Blitz  anziehen 
konnten.'  Mortimer,  does  that  mean  that  it  is 
dangerous  not  to  ring  the  church  bells  during 
a  thunder-storm?" 

"  Yes,  it  seems  to  mean  that, — if  that  is  the 
past  participle  of  the  nominative  case  singular, 
and  I  reckon  it  is.  Yes,  I  think  it  means  that 
on  account  of  the  height  of  the  church  tower 
and  the  absence  of  Luftzug  it  would  be  very 
dangerous  (sehr  gefdhrlicJt)  not  to  ring  the 
bells  in  time  of  a  storm;  and  moreover,  don't 
you  see,  the  very  wording — 

"  Never  mind  that,  Mortimer  ;  don't  waste 
the  precious  time  in  talk.  Get  the  large  din 
ner-bell  ;  it  is  right  there  in  the  hall.  Quick, 
Mortimer  dear  ;  we  are  almost  safe.  Oh,  dear, 


AND  THE  LIGHTNING.  157 

I    do   believe   we  are  going   to    be    saved,    at 
last  !  " 

Our  little  summer  establishment  stands  on 
top  of  a  high  range  of  hills,  overlooking  a  val 
ley.  Several  farm-houses  are  in  our  neighbor 
hood, — the  nearest  some  three  or  four  hundred 
yards  away. 

When  I,  mounted  on  the  chair,  had  been 
clanging  that  dreadful  bell  a  matter  of  seven  or 
eight  minutes,  our  shutters  were  suddenly  torn 
open  from  without,  and  a  brilliant  bull's-eye 
lantern  was  thrust  in  at  the  window,  followed 
by  a  hoarse  inquiry  :— 

"  What  in  the  nation  is  the  matter  here  ?  " 

The  window  was  full  of  men's  heads,  and 
the  heads  were  full  of  eyes  that  stared  wildly 
at  my  night-dress  and  my  warlike  accoutre 
ments. 

•  I  dropped  the  bell,  skipped  down  from  the 
chair  in  confusion,  and  said, — 

"  There  is  nothing  the  matter,  friends,— 
only  a  little  discomfort  on  account  of  the 
thunder-storm.  I  was  trying  to  keep  off  the 
lightning." 


r5  MRS.   McWILLIAMS 

"  Thunder-storm  ?  Lightning  ?  Why,  Mr 
McWilliams,  have  you  lost  your  mind  ?  It  is 
a  beautiful  starlight  night  ;  there  has  been  nc 
storm." 

I  looked  out,  and  I  was  so  astonishec 
I  could  hardly  speak  for  a  while.  Then  '. 
said,— 

"  I  do  not  understand  this.  We  distinctl} 
saw  the  glow  of  the  flashes  through  the  cur 
tains  and  shutters,  and  heard  the  thunder." 

One  after  another  of  those  people  lay  dowr 
on  the  ground  to  laugh, — and  two  of  them 
died.  One  of  the  survivors  remarked, — 

"  Pity  you  did  n't  think  to  open  your  blinds 
and  look  over  to  the  top  of  the  high  hill  yon 
der.  What  you  heard  was  cannon  ;  what  you 
saw  was  the  flash.  You  see,  the  telegraph 
brought  some  news,  just  at  midnight :  Gar- 
field's  nominated, — and  that's  what's  the  mat 
ter  ! " 

Yes,  Mr.  Twain,  as  I  was  saying  in  the  be 
ginning  (said  Mr.  McWilliams),  the  rules  for 
preserving  people  against  lightning  are  so  ex 
cellent  and  so  innumerable  that  the  most  in- 


AND  THE  LIGHTNING.  159 

comprehensible  thing  in  the  world  to  me  is  how 
anybody  ever  manages  to  get  struck. 

So  saying,  he  gathered  up  his  satchel  and 
umbrella,  and  departed  ;  for  the  train  had 
reached  his  town. 


[EXPLANATORY.  I  regard  the  idea  of  this  play  as  a 
valuable  invention.  I  call  it  the  Patent  Universally- 
Applicable  Automatically- Adjustable  Language  Dra 
ma.  This  indicates  that  it  is  adjustable  to  any  tongue, 
and  performable  in  any  tongue.  The  English  portions 
of  the  play  are  to  remain  just  as  they  are,  permanent 
ly;  but  you  change  the  foreign  portions  to  any  lan 
guage  you  please,  at  will.  Do  you  see  ?  You  at  once 
have  the  same  old  play  in  a  new  tongue.  And  you  can 
keep  on  changing  it  from  language  to  language,  until 
your  private  theatrical  pupils  have  become  glib  and  at 
home  in  the  speech  of  all  nations.  Zum  Beispiel,  sup 
pose  we  wish  to  adjust  the  play  to  the  French  tongue. 
First,  we  give  Mrs.  Blumenthal  and  Gretchen  French 
names.  Next,  we  knock  the  German  Meisterschaft 
sentences  out  of  the  first  scene,  and  replace  them  with 
sentences  from  the  French  Meisterschaft — like  this,  for 
instance;  "  Je  voudrais  faire  des  emplettes  ce  matin; 
voulez-vous  avoir  1'obligeance  de  venir  avec  moi  chez 
le  tailleur  frangais?"  And  so  on.  Wherever  you  find 
German,  replace  it  with  French,  leaving  the  English 
parts  undisturbed.  When  you  come  to  the  long  con 
versation  in  the  second  act,  turn  to  any  pamphlet  of 
your  French  Meisterschaft,  and  shovel  in  as  much 
French  talk  on  any  subject  as  will  fill  up  the  gaps 
left  by  the  expunged  German.  Example — page  423 
French  Meisterschaft: 
On  dirait  qu'il  va  faire  chaud. 
J'ai  chaud. 

J'ai  extremement  chaud. 
Ah!  qu'il  fait  chaud  ! 
II  fait  une  chaleur  etouffante! 
L'air  est  brulant. 
Je  meurs  de  chaleur. 

II  est  presque  impossible  de  supporter  la  chaleur. 
Cela  vous  fait  transpirer. 
Mettons  nous  a  1'ombre. 
II  fait  du  vent. 
II  fait  un  vent  froid. 
II  fait  un  temps   tres-agreable   pour  se  promener  aujour- 

d'hui. 

And  so  on,  all  the  way  through.  It  is  very  easy  to 
adjust  the  play  to  any  desired  language.  Anybody  can 
do  it.] 

160 


MEISTERSCHAFT  :    IN    THREE    ACTS. 

DRAMATIS  PERSONA: 

MR.  STEPHENSON.      MARGARET  STEPHENSON. 
GEORGE  FRANKLIN.  ANNIE  STEPHENSON. 
WILLIAM  JACKSON.     MRS.  BLUMENTHAL,  the  Wirthin. 
GRETCHEN,  Kellnerin. 

ACT  I. 

SCENE   I. 

Scene  of  the  play,  the  parlor  of  a  small  private  dwell 
ing  in  a  village. 

MARGARET.  {Discovered  crocheting — -has  a  pam 
phlet.} 

MARGARET.  ( Solus.  )  Dear,  dear !  it's 
dreary  enough,  to  have  to  study  this  impossi 
ble  German  tongue  :  to  be  exiled  from  home 
and  all  human  society  except  a  body's  sister  in 
order  to  do  it,  is  just  simply  abscheulich.  Here's 
only  three  weeks  of  the  three  months  gone, 
and  it  seems  like  three  years.  I  don't  believe 
I  can  live  through  it,  and  I'm  sure  Annie  can't. 
(Refers  to  her  book,  and  rattles  througJi,  sev- 

161 


162  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

eral  times,  like  one  memorizing:}  Entschuldi- 
gen  Sie,  mein  Herr,  konnen  Sie  mir  vielleicht 
sagen,  um  wie  viel  Uhr  der  erste  Zug  nach 
Dresden  abgeht  ?  (Makes  mistakes  and  cor 
rects  them.}  I  just  hate  Meisterschaft !  We 
may  see  people;  we  can  have  society:  yes, 
on  condition  that  the  conversation  shall  be  in 
German,  and  in  German  only — every  single 
word  of  it!  Very  kind — oh,  very!  when 
neither  Annie  nor  I  can  put  two  words  togeth 
er,  except  as  they  are  put  together  for  us  in 
Meisterschaft  or  that  idiotic  Ollendorff !  (Re 
fers  to  book,  and  memorizes  :  Mein  Bruder  hat 
Ihren  Herrn  Vater  nicht  gesehen,  als  er  ge stern 
in  dem  Laden  dcs  deutschen  Kaufmannes  war} 
Yes,  we  can  have  society,  provided  we  talk 
German.  What  would  such  a  conversation  be 
like  !  If  you  should  stick  to  Meisterschaft,  it 
would  change  the  subject  every  two  minutes; 
and  if  you  stuck  to  Ollendorff,  it  would  be  all 
about  your  sister's  mother's  good  stocking  of 
thread,  or  your  grandfather's  aunt's  good  ham 
mer  of  the  carpenter,  and  who's  got  it,  and 
there  an  end.  You  couldn't  keep  up  your  in- 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  163 

terest  in  such  topics.  {Memorizing:  Wenn 
irgend  moglick, — mochte  ich  nock  heute  Vor- 
mittag  dort  ankommen,  da  es  mir  sehr  daran 
gelegen  ist,  einen  meiner  Geschdftsfreunde  zu 
treffen)  My  mind  is  made  up  to  one  thing:  I 
will  be  an  exile,  in  spirit  and  in  truth:  I  will 
see  no  one  during  these  three  months.  Father 
is  very  ingenious — oh,  very  !  thinks  he  is,  any 
way.  Thinks  he  has  invented  a  way  to  force 
us  to  learn  to  speak  German.  He  is  a  dear 
good  soul,  and  all  that;  but  invention  isn't  his 
fash'.  He  will  see.  (With  eloquent  energy) 
Why,  nothing  in  the  world  shall — Bitte,  kon- 
nen  Sie  mir  vielleicht  sagen,  ob  Herr  Schmidt 
mit  diesem  Zuge  angekommen  ist?  Oh,  dear, 
dear  George — three  weeks!  It  seems  a  whole 
century  since  I  saw  him.  I  wonder  if  he  sus 
pects  that  I — that  I — care  for  him j — just  a 

wee,  wee  bit?  I  believe  he  does.  And  I  be 
lieve  Will  suspects  that  Annie  cares  for  him  a 
little,  that  I  do.  And  I  know  perfectly  well 
that  they  care  for  us.  They  agree  with  all  our 
opinions,  no  matter  what  they  are;  and  if  they 
have  a  prejudice,  they  change  it,  as  soon  as 


164  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

they  see  how  foolish  it  is.  Dear  George  !  at 
first  he  just  couldn't  abide  cats;  but  now,  why 
now  he's  just  all  for  cats;  he  fairly  welters  in 
cats.  I  never  saw  such  a  reform.  And  it's 
just  so  with  all  his  principles:  he  hasn't  got 
one  that  he  had  before.  Ah,  if  all  men  were 

like  him,  this  world  would (Memorizing  : 

Im  Gegentheil,  mein  Herr,  dieser  Stoff  is  schr 
billig.  Bitte,  selien  Sie  sick  nur  die  Qualitat 
an.}  Yes,  and  what  did  they  go  to  studying 
German  for,  if  it  wasn't  an  inspiration  of  the 
highest  and  purest  sympathy?  Any  other  ex 
planation  is  nonsense why,  they'd  as  soon 

have  thought  of  studying  American  history. 
( Turns  her  back,  buries  herself  in  her  pamphlet, 
first  memorizing  aloud,  until  Annie  enters, 
then  to  herself,  rocking  to  and  fro,  and  rapidly 
moving  her  lips,  without  uttering  a  sound.) 

Enter  Annie,  absorbed  in  her  pamphlet — does  not  at 
first  see  Margaret. 

ANNIE.  (Memorizing  :  Er  Hess  mich  gvs- 
tern  friih  rufen,  und  sagte  mir  dass  er  einen 
selir  unangenehmen  Brief  von  Ihrem  Lehrer 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  165 

erhalten  hattc.  Repeats  twice  aloud,  then  to 
herself,  briskly  moving  her  lips.} 

M.  (Still  not  seeing  her  sister.}  Wie  gehtes 
Ihrem  Herrn  Schwiegervater?  Es  freut  mich 
sehr  dass  Ihre  Frau  Mutter  wieder  wohl  1st. 
(Repeats.  T/ien  moutJis  in  silence.} 

(Annie  repeats  her  sentence  a  couple  of  times 
aloud ;  then  looks  up,  working  her  lips,  and 
discovers  Margaret.}  Oh,  you  here  !  (Run 
ning  to  her.}  O  lovey-dovey,  dovey-lovey, 
I've  got  the  gr-reatest  news  !  Guess,  guess, 
guess  !  You'll  never  guess  in  a  hundred  thou 
sand  million  years — and  more  ! 

M.  Oh,  tell  me,  tell  me,  dearie;  don't  keep 
me  in  agony. 

A.  Well,  I  will.  What— do— you— think  ? 
They  re  here  ! 

M.  Wh-a-t !  Who  ?  When  ?  Which  ? 
Speak ! 

A.  Will  and  George  ! 

M.  Annie  Alexandra  Victoria  Stephenson, 
what  do  you  mean  ! 

A.  As  sure  as  guns  ! 

M.  (Spasmodically   unarming    and    kissing 


l66  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

ker.)  'Sh  !  don't  use  such  language.  O  dar 
ling,  say  it  again  ! 

A.  As  sure  as  guns  ! 

M.  I  don't  mean  that!  Tell  me  again, 
that— 

A.  {Springing  up  and  TV  alt  zing  about  the 
room.)  They're  here — in  this  very  village — to 
learn  German — for  three  months !  Es  sollte 
mich  sehr  freuen  wenn  Sie — 

M.  {Joining  in  the  danced]  Oh,  it's  just  too 
lovely  for  anything  !  (Unconsciously  memoriz 
ing  .•)  Es  ware  mir  lieb  wenn  Sie  morgen  mit 
mir  in  die  Kirche  gehen  konnten,  aber  ichkann 
selbst  nicht  gehen,  weil  ich  Sonntags  gewohn- 
lich  krank  bin.  Juckhe  ! 

A.  (Finishing  some  unconscious  memoriz 
ing^) — morgen  Mittag  bei  mir  speisen  konnten. 
Juckhe  !  Sit  down  and  I'll  tell  you  all  I've 
heard.  (They  sit.)  They're  here,  and  under 
that  same  odious  law  that  fetters  us — our 
tongues,  I  mean;  the  metaphor's  faulty,  but  no 
matter.  They  can  go  out,  and  see  people,  only 
on  condition  that  they  hear  and  speak  Ger 
man,  and  German  only. 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  167 

M.  Isn't — that — too  lovely  ! 

A.  And  they're  coming  to  see  us ! 

M.  Darling !     {Kissing  her.)     But  are  you 
sure  ? 

A.  Sure  as  guns — Catling  guns  ! 

M.  'Sh  !  don't  child,  it's  schrecklich  !  Dar 
ling — you  aren't  mistaken  ? 

A.  As  sure  as  g — batteries  ! 

They  jump  up  and  dance  a  moment — then — 

M.  (With  distress^)  But,  Annie  dear! — we 
can't  talk  German — and  neither  can  they  ! 

A.   (Sorrowfully^}     I  didn't  think  of  that. 

M.   How  cruel  it  is  !     What  can  we  do  ? 

A.  {After  a  reflective  pause,  resolutely^) 
Margaret — we've  got  to. 

M.  Got  to  what? 

A.  Speak  German. 

M.  Why,  how,  child  ? 

A.  (Contemplating  her  pamphlet  with  ear 
nestness^}  I  can  tell  you  one  thing.  Just  give 
me  the  blessed  privilege:  just  hinsetzen  Will 
Jackson  here  in  front  of  me  and  I'll  talk  Ger 
man  to  him  as  long  as  this  Meisterschaft  holds 
out  to  burn. 


l68  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

M.  (Joyously.)  Oh,  what  an  elegant  idea  ! 
You  certainly  have  got  a  mind  that's  a  mine  of 
resources,  if  ever  anybody  had  one. 

A.  I'll  skin  this  Meisterschaft  to  the  last  sen 
tence  in  it ! 

M.  ( With  a  happy  idea.)  Why,  Annie,  it's 
the  greatest  thing  in  the  world.  I've  been  all 
this  time  struggling  and  despairing  over  these 
few  little  Meisterschaft  primers:  but  as  sure  as 
you  live,  I'll  have  the  whole  fifteen  by  heart 
before  this  time  day  after  to-morrow.  See  if  I 
don't. 

A.  And  so  will  I;  and  I'll  trowel-in  a  layer 
of  Ollendorff  mush  between  every  couple  of 
courses  of  Meisterschaft  bricks.  Juckhe  ! 

M.  Hoch  !  hoch  !  hoch  ! 

A.  Stoss  an  ! 

M.  Juckhe  !  Wir  werden  gleich  gute 
deutsche  Schiilerinnen  werden  !  Juck 

A.  —he  ! 

M.  Annie,  when  are  they  coming  to  see  us  ? 
To-night  ? 

A.  No. 

M.  No  ?    Why  not  ?    When  are  they  coming  ? 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  169 

What  are  they  waiting  for  ?  The  idea !  I  never 
heard  of  such  a  thing  !  What  do  you — 

A.  {Breaking  in.)  Wait,  wait,  wait  !  give  a 
body  a  chance.  They  have  their  reasons. 

M.  Reasons  ? — what  reasons  ? 

A.  Well,  now,  when  you  stop  and  think, 
they're  royal  good  ones.  They've  got  to  talk 
German  when  they  come,  haven't  they  ?  Of 
course.  Well,  they  don't  know  any  German  but 
Wie  befinden  Sie  sich,  and  Haben  Sie  gut 
geschlafen,  and  Vater  unser,  and  Ich  trinke 
lieber  Bier  als  Wasser,  and  a  few  little  parlor 
things  like  that;  but  when  it  comes  to  talking, 
why,  they  don't  know  a  hundred  and  fifty  Ger 
man  words,  put  them  all  together. 

M.  Oh,  I  see  ! 

A.  So  they're  going  neither  to  eat,  sleep, 
smoke,  nor  speak  the  truth  till  they've  cram 
med  home  the  whole  fifteen  Meisterschafts 
auswendig  ! 

M.  Noble  hearts  ! 

A.  They've  given  themselves  till  day  after 
to-morrow,  half-past  7  P.  M.,  and  then  they'll 
arrive  here,  loaded. 


170  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

M.  Oh,  how  lovely,  how  gorgeous,  how  beau 
tiful  !  Some  think  this  world  is  made  of  mud; 
I  think  it's  made  of  rainbows.  (Memorizing^) 
Wenn  irgend  moglich,  so  mochte  ich  noch 
heute  Vormittag  dort  ankommen,  da  es  mir 
sehr  daran  gelegen  ist, — Annie,  I  can  learn  it 
just  like  nothing  ! 

A.  So  can  I.  Meisterschaft's  mere  fun — I 
don't  see  how  it  ever  could  have  seemed  diffi 
cult.  Come  !  We  can  be  disturbed  here:  let's 
give  orders  that  we  don't  want  anything  to  eat 
for  two  days;  and  are  absent  to  friends,  dead 
to  strangers,  and  not  at  home  even  to  nougat- 
peddlers — 

M.  Schon  !  and  we'll  lock  ourselves  into  our 
rooms,  and  at  the  end  of  two  days,  whosoever 
may  ask  us  a  Meisterschaft  question  shall  get 
a  Meisterschaft  answer  —  and  hot  from  the 
bat  ! 

BOTH.  (Reciting  in  unison^)  Ich  habe  einen 
Hut  fur  meinen  Sohn,  ein  Paar  Handschuhe 
fur  meinen  Bruder,  und  einen  Kamm  fur  mich 
selbst  gekauft. 

(Exeunt.) 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  I/I 

Enter  MRS.  BLUMENTHAL,  the  Wirthin. 

WIRTHIN.  (Solus.)  Ach,  die  armen  Mad- 
chen,  sie  hassen  die  deutsche  Sprache,  drum 
ist  es  ganz  und  gar  unmoglich  dass  sie  sie  je 
lernen  konnen.  Es  bricht  mir  ja  mein  Herz 
ihre  Kummeriiber  die  Studien  anzusehen  .... 
Warum  haben  sie  den  Entchluss  gefasst  in 
ihren  Zimmern  ein  Paar  Tage  zu  bleiben  ? 
.  .  .  Ja — gewiss — dass  versteht  sich:  sie  sind 
entmuthigt — arme  Kinder  ! 

(A  knock  at  the  door.)     Herein  ! 

Enter  Gretchen  with  card. 

G.  Er  ist  schon  wieder  da,  und  sagt  dass  er 
nur  Sie  sehen  will.  (Hands  the  card)  Auch — 

WIRTHIN.  Gott  im  Himmel— der  Vater  der 
Madchen  !  (Puts  the  card  in  her  pocket)  Er 
wunscht  die  Tochter  nicht  zu  treffen  ?  Ganz 
recht;  also,  Du  schweigst. 

G.  Zu  Befehl. 

WIRTHIN.  Lass  ihn  hereinkommen. 

G.  Ja,  Frau  Wirthin  ! 

Exit  Gretchen. 

WIRTHIN.  (Solus)  Ah— jetzt  muss  ich  ihm 
die  Wahrheit  offenbaren. 


1/2  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

Enter  Mr.  Stephenson. 

STEPHENSON.  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Blumen- 
thal — keep  your  seat,  keep  your  seat,  please. 
I'm  only  here  for  a  moment — merely  to  get 
your  report,  you  know.  (Seating  himself^ 
Don't  want  to  see  the  girls — poor  things, 
they'd  want  to  go  home  with  me.  I'm  afraid 
I  couldn't  have  the  heart  to  say  no.  How's 
the  German  getting  along  ? 

WlRTHlN.  N-not  very  well;  I  was  afraid  you 
would  ask  me  that.  You  see,  they  hate  it,  they 
don't  take  the  least  interest  in  it,  and  there 
isn't  anything  to  incite  them  to  an  interest,  you 
see.  And  so  they  can't  talk  at  all. 

S.  M-m.  That's  bad.  I  had  an  idea  that 
they'd  get  lonesome,  and  have  to  seek  society; 
and  then,  of  course,  my  plan  would  work,  con 
sidering  the  cast-iron  conditions  of  it. 

WlRTHIN.  But  it  hasn't  so  far.  I've  thrown 
nice  company  in  their  way — I've  done  my  very 
best,  in  every  way  I  could  think  of — but  it's  no 
use;  they  won't  go  out,  and  they  won't  receive 
anybody.  And  a  body  can't  blame  them; 
they'd  be  tongue-tied — couldn't  do  anything 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  1/3 

with  a  German  conversation.  Now  when  I 
started  to  learn  German — such  poor  German  as 
I  know — the  case  was  very  different:  my  in 
tended  was  a  German.  I  was  to  live  among 
Germans  the  rest  of  my  life;  and  so  I  had  to 
learn.  Why,  bless  my  heart  !  I  nearly  lost 
the  man  the  first  time  he  asked  me — I  thought 
he  was  talking  about  the  measles.  They  were 
very  prevalent  at  the  time.  Told  him  I  didn't 
want  any  in  mine.  But  I  found  out  the  mis 
take,  and  I  was  fixed  for  him  next  time.  .  .  Oh, 
yes,  Mr.  Stephenson,  a  sweetheart's  a  prime 
incentive  ! 

S.  (Aside.}  Good  soul  !  she  doesn't  suspect 
that  my  plan  is  a  double  scheme — includes  a 
speaking  knowledge  of  German,  which  I  am 
bound  they  shall  have,  and  the  keeping  them 
away  from  those  two  young  fellows — though  if 
I  had  known  that  those  boys  were  going  off  for 
a  year's  foreign  travel,  I — however,  the  girls 
would  never  learn  that  language  at  home; 
they're  here,  and  I  won't  relent — they've  got 
to  stick  the  three  months  out.  (Alozid.)  So 
they  are  making  poor  progress  ?  Now  tell 


174  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

me — will  they  learn  it — after  a  sort  of  fashion, 
I  mean — in  the  three  months  ? 

WIRTHIN.  Well,  now,  I'll  tell  you  the  only 
chance  I  see.  Do  what  I  will,  they  won't  an 
swer  my  German  with  anything  but  English; 
if  that  goes  on,  they'll  stand  stock  still.  Now 
I'm  willing  to  do  this:  I'll  straighten  every 
thing  up,  get  matters  in  smooth  running  order, 
and  day  after  to-morrow  I'll  go  to  bed  sftk,  and 
stay  sick  three  weeks. 

S.  Good  !  You  are  an  angel  !  I  see  your 
idea.  The  servant  girl — 

WlRTHIN.  That's  it;  that's  my  project.  She 
doesn't  know  a  word  of  English.  And  Gret- 
chen's  a  real  good  soul,  and  can  talk  the  slates 
off  a  roof.  Her  tongue's  just  a  flutter-mill.  I'll 
keep  my  room, — just  ailing  a  little, — and 
they'll  never  see  my  face  except  when  they  pay 
their  little  duty-visits  to  me,  and  then  I'll  say 
English  disorders  my  mind.  They'll  be  shut 
up  with  Gretchen's  wind-mill,  and  she'll  just 
grind  them  to  powder.  Oh,  they  II  get  a  start 
in  the  language — sort  of  a  one,  sure's  you  live. 
You  come  back  in  three  weeks. 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  1/5 

S.  Bless  you,  my  Retterin  !  I'll  be  here  to 
the  day  !  Get  ye  to  your  sick-room — you 
shall  have  treble  pay.  (Looking  at  watch.) 
Good  !  I  can  just  catch  my  train.  Leben  Sie 
wohl  !  (Exit.) 

WlRTHiN.  Leben    Sie   wohl!    mein    Herr ! 


ACT  II. 

SCENE   I. 

Time,  a  couple  of  days  later. 

(The  girls  discovered  with  their  work  and  primers.) 

ANNIE.  Was  fehlt  der  Wirthin  ? 

MARGARET.  Dass  weiss  ich  nicht.  Sie  ist 
schon  vor  zwei  Tagen  ins  Bett  gegangen— 

A.  My  !    how  fleissend  you  speak  ! 

M.  Danke  schon — und  sagte  dass  sie  nicht 
wohl  sei. 

A.  Good  !  Oh,  no,  I  don't  mean  that  !  no 
—only  lucky  for  us— gliicklich,  you  know  I 
mean  because  it'll  be  so  much  nicer  to  have 
them  all  to  ourselves. 

M.  Oh,     naturlich  !      Ja  !       Dass    ziehe   ich 


MEISTERSCHAFT. 

durchaus  vor.      Do  you  believe  your  Meister- 
schaft  will  stay  with  you,  Annie  ? 

A.  Well,  I  know  it  is  with  me — every  last 
sentence  of  it;  and  a  couple  of  hods  of  Olten- 
dorff,  too,  for  emergencies.  May  be  they'll  re 
fuse  to  deliver, — right  off — at  first,  you  know— 
der  Verlegenheit  wegen — aber  ich  will  sie  spa- 
ter  herausholen — when  I  get  my  hand  in — und 
vergisst  Du  dass  nicht  ! 

M.  Sei  nicht  grob,  Liebste.  What  shall  we 
talk  about  first — when  they  come  ? 

A.  Well — let  me  see.  There's  shopping 
— and — all  that  about  the  trains,  you  know,— 
and  going  to  church — and — buying  tickets  to 
London,  and  Berlin,  and  all  around — and  all 
that  subjunctive  stuff  about  the  battle  in  Af 
ghanistan,  and  where  the  American  was  said 
to  be  born,  and  so  on — and — and  ah — oh, 
there's  so  many  things — I  don't  think  a  body 
can  choose  beforehand,  because  you  know  the 
circumstances  and  the  atmosphere  always  have 
so  much  to  do  in  directing  a  conversation,  es 
pecially  a  German  conversation,  which  is  only 
a  kind  of  an  insurrection,  any  way.  I  believe 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  177 

it's  best  to  just  depend  on  Prov — (Glancing  at 
watch,  and  gasping) — half  past — seven  ! 

M.  Oh,  dear,  I'm  all  of  a  tremble  !  Let's  get 
something  ready,  Annie  ! 

(BotJifall  nervously  to  reciting}  :  Entschuldi- 
gen  Sie,  mem  Herr,  konnen  Sie  mir  vielleicht 
sagen  wie  ich  nach  dem  norddeutchen  Bahn- 
hof  gehe  ?  ( They  repeat  it  several  times,  losing 
their  grip  and  mixing  it  all  up.} 

(A  knock.) 

BOTH.  Herein  !  Oh,  dear  !    O  der  heilige— 
Enter  Gretchen. 

GRETCHEN  (Ruffled  and  indignant?}  Ent- 
schuldigen  Sie,  meine  gnadigsten  Fraulein,  es 
sind  zwei  junge  rasende  Herren  drau.ssen,  die 
herein  wollen,  aber  ich  habe  ihnen  geschworen 
dass — {Handing  the  cards?) 

M.  Du  liebe  Zeit,  they're  here  !  And  of 
course  down  goes  my  back  hair  !  Stay  and  re 
ceive  them,  dear,  while  I — {Leaving?) 

A.  I — alone  ?  I  won't  !  I'll  go  with  you  ! 
(To  G.)  Lass  en  Sie  die  Herren  naher  treten; 


MEISTERSCHAFT. 

und  sagen  Sie  ihnen  dass  wir  gleich    zuruck- 
kommen  werden.     (Exit.) 

GR.  (Solus.)  Was  !  Sie  freuen  sich  dariiber  ? 
Und  ich  sollte  wirklich  diese  Blodsinnigen,  dies 
grobe  Rindvieh  hereinlassen  ?  In  den  hiilflosen 
Umstanden  meiner  gnadigen  jungen  Damen  ? 
— Unsinn  !  (Pause — thinking.)  Wohlan  !  Ich 
werde  sie  mal  beschiitzen  !  Sollte  man  nicht 
glauben,  dass  sie  einen  Sparren  zu  viel  hatten  ? 
( Tapping  her  skull  significantly.)  Was  sie  mir 
doch  Alles  gesagt  haben  !  Der  Eine  :  Guten 
Morgen  !  wie  geht  es  Ihrem  Herrn  Schwieger- 
vater  ?  Du  liebe  Zeit  !  Wie  sollte  ich  einen 
Schwiegervater  haben  konnen  !  Und  der  An- 
dere:  "  Es  thut  mir  sehr  leid  dass  Ihrer  Herr 
Vater  meinen  Bruder  nicht  gesehen  hat,  als  er 
doch  gestern  in  dem  Laden  des  deutschen 
Kaufmannes  war  !  "  Potztausendhimmelsdon- 
nerwetter  !  Oh,  ich  war  ganz  rasend  !  Wie  ich 
aber  rief:  "  Meine  Herren,ich  kenne  Sie  nicht, 
und  Sie  kennen  meinen  Vater  nicht,  wissen  Sie, 
denn  er  ist  schon  lange  durchgebrannt,  und 
geht  nicht  beim  Tage  in  einen  Laden  hinein, 
wissen  Sie, — und  ich  habe  keinen  Schwieger- 


MEISTERSCHAFT. 

vater,  Gott  sei  Dank,  werde  auch  nie  einen 
kriegen,  werde  ueberhaupt,  wissen  Sie,  ein 
solches  Ding  nie  haben,  nie  dulden,  nie  ausste- 
hen:  warum  greifen  Sie  ein  Madchen  an,  das 
nur  Unschuld  kennt,  das  Ihnen  nie  Etwas  zu 
Leide  gethan  hat  ? "  Dann  haben  sie  sich 
beide  die  Finger  in  die  Ohren  gesteckt  und 
gebetet  :  "  Allmachtiger  Gott  !  Erbarme  Dich 
unser  !  "  (Pauses.)  Nun,  ich  werde  schon  diesen 
Schurken  Einlass  gonnen,  aber  ich  werde 
ein  Auge  mit  ihnen  haben,  damit  sie  sich 
nicht  wie  reine  Teufel  geberden  sollen. 
{Exit,  grumbling  and  shaking  her  head?) 

Enter  William  and  George. 

W.  My  land,  what  a  girl  !  and  what  an  in 
credible  gift  of  gabble  ! — kind  of  patent  cli 
mate-proof  compensation-balance  self-acting 
automatic  Meisterschaft — touch  her  button, 
and  br-r-r  !  away  she  goes  ! 

GEO.  Never  heard  anything  like  it;  tongue 
journaled  on  ball-bearings  !  I  wonder  what 
she  said;  seemed  to  be  swearing,  mainly. 

W.   (After  mumbling  Meisterschaft  awhile.) 


180  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

Look  here,  George,  this  is  awful — come  to 
think — this  project:  we  can't  talk  this  frantic 
language. 

GEO.  I  know  it,  Will,  and  it  is  awful;  but  I 
can't  live  without  seeing  Margaret — I've  en 
dured  it  as  long  as  I  can.  I  should  die  if  I 
tried  to  hold  out  longer — and  even  German  is 
preferable  to  death. 

W.  (Hesitatingly^)  Well,  I  don't  know; 
it  's  a  matter  of  opinion, 

GEO.  (Irritably.}  It  is  n't  a  matter  of  opin 
ion  either.  German  is  preferable  to  death. 

W.  (Reflectively.)  Well,  I  don't  know — the 
problem  is  so  sudden — but  I  think  you  may  be 
right:  some  kinds  of  death.  It  is  more  than 
likely  that  a  slow,  lingering — well,  now,  there 
in  Canada  in  the  early  times  a  couple  of  cen 
turies  ago,  the  Indians  would  take  a  mission 
ary  and  skin  him,  and  get  some  hot  ashes  and 
boiling  water  and  one  thing  and  another,  and 
by  and  by,  that  missionary — well,  yes,  I  can 
see  that,  by  and  by,  talking  German  could  be 
a  pleasant  change  for  him. 

GEO.  Why,   of  course.     Das  versteht  sich; 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  l8l 

but  you  have  to  always  think  a  thing  out,  or 
you're  not  satisfied.  But  let  's  not  go  to  both 
ering  about  thinking  out  this  present  business; 
we're  here,  we're  in  for  it;  you  are  as  mori 
bund  to  see  Annie  as  I  am  to  see  Margaret;  you 
know  the  terms:  we've  got  to  speak  German. 
Now  stop  your  mooning  and  get  at  your  Meis- 
terschaft;  we've  got  nothing  else  in  the  world. 

W.  Do  you  think  that  '11  see  us  through  ? 

GEO.  Why  it's  got  to.  Suppose  we  wan 
dered  out  of  it  and  took  a  chance  at  the  lan 
guage  on  our  own  responsibility,  where  the 
nation  would  we  be  ?  Up  a  stump,  that's 
where.  Our  only  safety  is  in  sticking  like  wax 
to  the  text. 

W.  But  what  can  we  talk  about  ? 

GEO.  Why,  anything  that  Meisterschaft  talks 
about.  It  ain't  our  affair. 

W.  I  know;  but  Meisterschaft  talks  about 
everything. 

GEO.  And  yet  don't  talk  about  anything 
long  enough  for  it  to  get  embarrassing.  Meis 
terschaft  is  just  splendid  for  general  conversa 
tion. 


182  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

W.  Yes,  that's  so;  but  it's  so  blamed  gen 
eral  !  Won't  it  sound  foolish  ? 

GEO.  Foolish?  Why,  of  course;  all  Ger 
man  sounds  foolish. 

W.  Well,  that  is  true;  I  didn't  think  of  that. 

GEO.  Now,  don't  fool  around  any  more. 
Load  up;  load  up;  get  ready.  Fix  up  some 
sentences;  you'll  need  them  in  two  minutes 
now. 

(  They  walk  up  and  down,  moving  their  lips 
in  dumb-show  memorizing?) 

W.  Look  here — when  we've  said  all  that's 
in  the  book  on  a  topic,  and  want  to  change 
the  subject,  how  can  we  say  so  ? — how  would 
a  German  say  it  ? 

GEO.  Well,  I  don't  know.  But  you  know 
when  they  mean  "  Change  cars,"  they  say  Um- 
steigen.  Don't  you  reckon  that  will  answer  ? 

W.  Tip-top  !  It's  short  and  goes  right  to 
the  point;  and  it's  got  a  business  whang  to  it 
that's  almost  American.  Umsteigen  ! — change 
subject ! — why,  it's  the  very  thing. 

GEO.  All  right,  then,j/^  umsteigen — for  I 
hear  them  coming. 


MEISTERSCHAFT-  183 

Enter  the  girls. 

A.  TO  W.  (With  solemnity.}  Guten  morgen, 
mem  Herr,  es  freut  mich  sehr,  Sie  zu  sehen. 

W.  Guten  morgen,  mein  Fraulein,  es  freut 
mich  sehr  Sie  zu  sehen. 

{Margaret  and  George  repeat  the  same  sen 
tences.  Then,  after  an  embarrassing  silence, 
Margaret  refers  to  her  book  and  says  .•) 

M.  Bitte,  meine  Herren,  setzen  Sie  sich. 

THE  GENTLEMEN.  Danke  schon.  (The 
four  seat  themselves  in  couples,  the  width  of  the 
stage  apart,  and  the  two  conversations  begin. 
The  talk  is  not  flowing — at  any  rate  at  first; 
there  are  painful  silences  all  along.  EacJi 
couple  worry  out  a  remark  and  a  reply:  tJiere 
is  a  pause  of  silent  thinking,  and  then  the  other 
couple  deliver  themselves^) 

W.  Haben  Sie  meinen  Vater  in  dem  Laden 
meines  Bruders  nicht  gesehen  ? 

A.  Nein,  mein  Herr,  ich  habe  Ihren  Herrn 
Vater  in  dem  Laden  Ihres  Herrn  Bruders 
nicht  gesehen. 

GEO.  Waren  Sie  gestern  Abend  im  Koncert, 
oder  im  Theater  ? 


1 84  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

M.  Nein,  ich  war  gestern  Abend  nicht  im 
Koncert,  noch  im  Theater,  ich  war  gestern 
Abend  zu  Hause. 

General  break-down — long  pause. 

W.  Ich  store  doch  nicht  etwa  ? 

A.  Sie  storen  mich  durchaus  nicht. 

GEO.  Bitte,  lassen  Sie  sich  nicht  von  mir 
storen. 

M.  Aber  ich  bitte  Sie,  Sie  storen  mich  dur 
chaus  nicht. 

W.  ( To  both  girls.)  Wen  wir  Sie  storen  so 
gehen  wir  gleich  wieder. 

A.  O,  nein  !     Gewiss,  nein  ! 

M.  Im  Gegentheil,  es  freut  uns  sehr,  Sie  zu 
sehen — alle  Beide. 

W.    Schon! 

GEO.  Gott  sei  dank  ! 

M.   (Aside.)     It's  just  lovely  ! 

A.   (Aside.)     It's  like  a  poem. 


Pause. 


W.  Umsteigen  ! 
M.  Um — welches  ? 
W.  Umsteigen. 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  185 

GEO.  Auf  English,  change  cars — oder  sub 
ject. 

BOTH  GIRLS.  Wie  schon  ! 

W.  Wir  haben  uns  die  Freiheit  genommen, 
bei  Ihnen  vorzusprechen. 

A.  Sie  sind  sehr  giitig. 

GEO.  Wir  wollten  uns  erkundigen,  wie  Sie 
sich  befanden. 

M.  Ich  bin  Ihnen  sehr  verbunden — meine 
Schwester  auch. 

W.  Meine  Frau  lasst  sich  Ihnen  bestens 
empfehlen. 

A.  Ihre  Frau  ? 

W.  (Examining  his  book.)  Vielleicht  habe 
ich  mich  geirrt.  (Shows  the  placed)  Nein, 
gerade  so  sagt  das  Buch. 

A.  (Satisfied^}     Ganz  recht.     Aber — 

W.  Bitte  empfehlen  Sie  mich  Ihrem  Herrn 
Bruder. 

A.  Ah,  dass  ist  viel  besser — viel  besser. 
(Aside.)  Wenigstens  es  ware  viel  besser  wenn 
ich  einen  Bruder  hatte. 

GEO.  Wie  ist  es  Ihnen  gegangen,  seitdem  ich 
das  Vergniigen  hatte,  Sie  anderswo  zu  sehen  ? 


186  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

M.  Danke  bestens,  ich  befinde  mich  ge- 
wohnlich  ziemlich  wohl. 

Gretchen  slips  in  with  a  gun,  and  listens. 

GEO.  (Still  to  Margaret.}  Befmdet  sich 
Ihre  Frau  Gemahlin  wohl  ? 

GR.  (Raising  hands  and  eyes.)  Frau  Ge 
mahlin — heiliger  Gott !  (Is  like  to  betray  her 
self  with  her  smothered  laughter  and  glides 
out) 

M.  Danke  sehr,  meine  Frau  ist  ganz  wohl. 
Pause. 

W.  Diirfen  wir  vielleicht — umsteigen  ? 

THE  OTHERS.  Gut ! 

GEO.  (Aside)  I  feel  better,  now.  I'm  be 
ginning  to  catch  on.  (Aloud)  Ich  mochte 
gern  morgen  friih  einige  Einkaufe  machen 
und  wiirde  Ihnen  sehr  verbunden  sein,  wenn 
Sie  mir  den  Gefallen  thaten,  mir  die  Namen 
der  besten  hiesigen  Firmen  aufzuschreiben. 

M.  (Aside)     How  sweet ! 

W.  (Aside)  Hang  it,  /  was  going  to  say 
that !  That's  one  of  the  noblest  things  in  the 
book. 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  187 

A.  Ich  mochte  Ihnen  gern  begleiten,  aber 
es  ist  mir  wirklich  heute  Morgan  ganz  unmog- 
lich  auszugehen.  (Aside.)  It's  getting  as 
easy  as  9  times  7  is  46. 

M.  Sagen  Sie  dem  Brieftager,  wenn's  gefal- 
lig  ist,  er  mochte  Ihnen  den  ein  geschriebenen 
Brief  geben  lassen. 

W.  Ich  wiirde  Ihnen  sehr  verbunden  sein, 
wenn  Sie  diese  Schachtel  fur  mich  nach  der 
Post  tragen  wiirden,  da  mir  sehr  daran  liegt 
einen  meiner  Geschaftsfreunde  in  dem  Laden 
des  deutchen  Kaufmanns  heute  Abend  treffen 
zu  konnen.  (Aside.)  All  down  but  nine; 
set  'm  up  on  the  other  alley  ! 

A.  Aber  Herr  Jackson  !  Sie  haben  die  Satze 
gemischt.  Es  ist  unbegreiflich  wie  Sie  das 
haben  thun  konnen.  Zwischen  Ihrem  ersten 
Theil  und  Ihrem  letzten  Theil  haben  Sie  ganze 
fiinfzig  Seiten  iibergeschlagen  !  Jetzt  bin  ich 
ganz  verloren.  Wie  kann  man  reden,  wenn 
man  seinen  Platz  durchaus  nicht  wieder  finden 
kann  ? 

W.  Oh,  bitte,  verzeihen  Sie;  ich  habe  dass 
wirklich  nich  beabsichtigt. 


188  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

A.   (Mollified)     Sehr   wohl,   lassen    Sie   gut 
sein.     Aber   thun    Sie    es    nicht    wieder.     Sie 
miissen  ja  doch  einraumen,  dass  solche  Dinge 
unertragliche  Verwirrung  mit  sich  fuhren. 
(Gr  etc  hen  slips  in  again  zuith  her  gun ) 
W.  Unzweifelhaft  haben   Sie   Recht,   meine 
holdselige  Landsmannin Umsteigen  ! 

(As  George  gets  fairly  into  the  following,  Gretchen 
draws  a  bead  on  him,  and  lets  drive  at  the  close,  but 
the  gun  snaps.) 

GEO.  Glauben  Sie  dass  ich  ein  hiibsches 
Wohnzimmer  fur  mich  selbst  und  ein  kleines 
Schlafzimmer  fur  meinen  Sohn  in  diesem 
Hotel  fiir  fiinfzehn  Mark  die  Woche  bekom- 
men  kann,  oder  wiirden  Sie  mir  rathen,  in 
einer  Privatwohnung  Logis  zu  nehmen  ? 
(Aside.)  That's  a  daisy! 

GR.  (Aside.)  Schade !  (She  draws  her 
charge  and  reloads) 

M.  Glauben  Sie  nicht  Sie  werden  besser 
thun  bei  diesem  Wetter  zu  Hause  zu  bleiben  ? 

A.  Freilich  glaube  ich,  Herr  Franklin,  Sie 
werden  sich  erkalten,  wenn  Sie  bei  diesem 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  189 

unbestandigen   Wetter   ohne   Ueberrock  aus- 
gehen. 

GR.  (Relieved — aside.}  So  ?  Man  redet  von 
Ausgehen.  Das  klingt  schon  besser.  (Sits.) 

W.  (To  A.)  Wie  theuer  haben  Sie  das  ge- 
kauft  ?  (Indicating  a  part  of  her  dress.) 

A.  Das  hat  achtzehn  Mark  gekostet. 

W.  Das  ist  sehr  theuer. 

GEO.  Ja,  obgleich  dieser  Stoff  wunderschon 
ist  und  das  Muster  sehr  geschmackvoll  und 
auch  das  Vorzuglichste  dass  es  in  dieser  Art 
gibt,  so  ist  es  doch  furchtbar  theuer  fur  einen 
solchen  Artikel. 

M.  (Aside.)  How  sweet  is  this  communion 
of  soul  with  soul  ! 

A.  Im  Gegentheil,  mein  Herr,  das  ist  sehr 
billig.  Sehen  Sie  sich  nur  die  Qualitat  an. 

(They  all  examine  it.) 

GEO.  Moglicherweise  ist  es  das  allerneuste 
dass  man  in  diesem  Stofifhat;  aber  das  Muster 
gefallt  mir  nicht. 

(Pause.) 

W.  Umsteigen ! 

A.  Welchen  Hund  haben  Sie  ?     Haben  Sie 


ICX>  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

den  hiibschen  Hund  des  Kaufmanns,  oder  den 
hasslichen  Hund  der  Urgrossmutter  des  Lehr- 
lings  des  bogenheinigen  Zimmermanns  ? 

W.  (Aside.}  Oh,  come,  she's  ringing  in  a 
cold  deck  on  us:  that's  Ollendorff. 

GEO.  Ich  habe  nicht  den  Hund  des — des 
—  (Aside.)  Stuck!  That's  no  Meisterschaft; 
they  don't  play  fair.  (Aloud.)  Ich  habe  nicht 
den  Hund  des  —  des —  In  unserem  Buche 
leider,  gibt  es  keinen  Hund;  daher,  ob  ich 
auch  gern  von  solchen  Thieren  sprechen 
mochte,  ist  es  mir  doch  unmoglich,  weil  ich 
nicht  vorbereitet  bin.  Entschuldigen  Sie, 
meine  Damen. 

GR.  (Aside.)  Beim  Teufel,  sie  sind  alle 
blodsinnig  geworden.  In  meinem  Leben  habe 
ich  nie  ein  so  narrisches,  verfluchtes,  ver- 
dammtes  Gesprach  gehort 

W.  Bitte,  umsteigen. 

(Run  the  following  rapidly  through.) 

M.  (Aside.)  Oh,  I've  flushed  an  easy  batch  ! 
(Aloud.)  Wiirden  Sie  mir  erlauben  meine 
Reisetasche  hier  hinzustellen  ? 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  IQI 

GR.  (Aside.)  Wo  ist  seine  Reisetasche  ? 
Ich  sehe  keine. 

W.  Bitte  sehr. 

GEO.  Ist  meine  Reisetasche  Ihnen  im 
Wege  ? 

GR.   (Aside.)  Und  wo  ist  seine  Reisetasche  ? 

A.  Erlauben  Sie  mir  Sie  von  meiner  Reise 
tasche  zu  befreien. 

GR.  (Aside.)  Du  Esel  ! 

W.  Ganz  und  gar  nicht.  (To  Geo.)  Es  ist 
sehr  schwiil  in  diesem  Coupe. 

GR.   (Aside.)  Coupe. 

GEO.  Sie  haben  Recht.  Erlauben  Sie  mir, 
gefalligst,  das  Fenster  zu  offhen.  Ein  wenig 
Luft  wiirde  uns  got  thun. 

M.  Wir  fahren  sehr  rasch. 

A.  Haben  Sie  den  Namen  jener  Station 
gehort  ? 

W.  Wie  lange  halten  wir  auf  dieser  Station 
an? 

GEO.  Ich  reise  nach  Dresden,  Schaffher. 
Wo  muss  ich  umsteigen  ? 

A.  Sie  steigen  nicht  um,  Sie  bleiben  sitzen. 

GR.  (Aside.)  Sie  sind  ja  alle  ganz  und  gar 


IQ2  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

verruckt!     Man   denke   sich  sie  glauben  dass 
sie  auf  der  Eisenbahn  reisen. 

GEO.  (Aside,  to  William)  Now  brace  up; 
pull  all  your  confidence  together,  my  boy,  and 
we'll  try  that  lovely  good-bye  business  a 
flutter.  I  think  it's  about  the  gaudiest  thing  in 
the  book,  if  you  boom  it  right  along  and  don't 
get  left  on  a  base.  It'll  impress  the  girls. 
(Aloud.)  Lassen  Sie  uns  gehen:  es  ist  schon 
sehr  spat,  und  ich  muss  morgen  ganz  friih 
aufstehen. 

GR.  (Aside — grateful)  Gott  sei  Dank  dass 
sie  endlich  gehen.  (Sets  her  gun  aside) 

W.  (To  Geo)  Ich  danke  Ihnen  hoflichst  fur 
die  Ehre  die  sie  mir  erweisen,  aber  ich  kann 
nicht  langer  bleiben. 

GEO.  (71?  W)  Entschuldigen  Sie  mich  gii- 
tigst,  aber  ich  kann  wirklich  nicht  langer 
bleiben. 

Gretchen  looks  on  stupefied. 

W.  (To  Geo)  Ich  habe  schon  eine  Ein- 
ladung  angenommen;  ich  kann  wirklich  nicht 
langer  bleiben. 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  193 

Gretchen  fingers  her  gun  again. 

GEO.  (To  W.)  Ich  muss  gehen. 

W.  ( To  Geo.)  Wie  !  Sie  wollen  schon  wie- 
der  gehen  ?  Sie  sind  ja  eben  erst  gekommen. 

M.   (Aside).  It's  just  music  ! 

A.   (Aside.)  Oh,  how  lovely  they  do  it ! 

GEO.  (To  W.)  Also  denken  sie  doch  noch 
nicht  an's  Gehen. 

W.  (To  Geo.)  Es  thut  mir  unendlich  leid, 
aber  ich  muss  nach  Hause.  Meine  Frau  wird 
sich  wundern,  was  aus  mir  geworden  ist. 

GEO.  (To  W.)  Meine  Frau  hat  keine  Ah- 
nung  wo  ich  bin:  ich  muss  wirklich  jetzt  fort. 

W.  ( To  Geo.)  Dann  will  ich  Sie  nicht  langer 
auflialten;  ich  bedaure  sehr  dass  Sie  uns  einen 
so  kurzen  Besuch  gemacht  haben. 

GEO.  (To  W.)  Adieu— auf  recht  baldiges 
Wiedersehen. 

W.  UMSTEIGEN  ! 

Great  hand-clapping  from  the  gins. 

M.  (Aside.)  Oh,  how  perfect !  how  elegant ! 
A.   (Aside.)  Per-fectly  enchanting  ! 
JOYOUS  CHORUS.  (All.)     Ich  habe  gehabt, 


194  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

du    hast   gehabt,    er    hat   gehabt,    wir     haben 
gehabt,  ihr  habet  gehabt,  sie  haben  gehabt. 

Gretchen  faints,  and  tumbles  from  her  chair,  and 
the  gun  goes  off  with  a  crash.  Each  girl,  frightened, 
seizes  the  protecting  hand  of  her  sweetheart.  Gret 
chen  scrambles  up.  Tableau. 

W.  {Takes  out  some  money — beckons  Gret 
chen  to  him.  George  adds  money  to  the  pile.} 
Hiibsches  Madchen  (giving  her  some  of  tJie 
coins),  hast  Du  etwas  gesehen  ? 

GR.  (Courtesy — aside)  Der  Engel !  (Aloud 
— impressively)  Ich  habe  nichts  gesehen. 

W.   (More  money)   Hast  Du  etwas  gehort  ? 

GR.  Ich  habe  nichts  gehort. 

W.   (More  money)  Und  Morgen  ? 

GR.  Morgen — ware  es  nothig — bin  ich  taub 
und  blind. 

W.  Unvergleichbares  Madchen  !  Und  (giv 
ing  the  rest  of  the  money)  darnach  ? 

GR.  (Deep  courtesy  —  aside)  Erzengel  ! 
(Aloud)  Darnach,  mien  gnadgister,  betrach- 
ten  Sie  mich  also  taub — blind — todt! 

ALL.  (In  chorus — with  reverent  joy)  Ich 
habe  gehabt,  du  hast  gehabt,  er  hat  gehabt, 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  195 

wir  haben  gehab^,  ihr  habet  gehabt,  sie  haben 
ge-habt ! 

ACT  III. 

Three  weeks  later. 

SCENE    I. 

Enter  Gretchen,  and  puts  her  shawl  on  a  chair. 
Brushing  around  with  the  traditional  feather-duster 
of  the  drama.     Smartly  dressed,  for  she  is  prosperous. 

GR.  Wie  hatte  man  sich  das  vorstellen 
konnen  !  In  nur  drei  Wochen  bin  ich  schon 
reich  geworden  !  (Gets  out  of  Jier  pocket  hand 
ful  after  handful  of  silver,  which  she  piles  on 
tJie  table,  and  proceeds  to  re-pile  and  count,  oc 
casionally  ringing  or  biting  a  piece  to  try  its 
quality.)  Oh,  dass  (with  a  sigh)  die  Frau 
Wirthin  nur  eivig  krank  bliebe  !  .  .  .  .  Diese 
edlen  jungen  Manner — sie  sind  ja  so  liebens- 
wiirdig  !  Und  so  fleissig  !  —  und  so  treu  ! 
Jeden  Morgen  kommen  sie  gerade  urn  drei 
Viertel  auf  neun;  und  plaudern  und  schwat- 
zen,  und  plappern,  und  schnattern,  die  jungen 
Damen  auch;  um  Schlage  zwolf  nehmen  sie 
Abschied;  um  Schlage  eins  kommen  sie  schon 


196  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

wieder,  und  plaudern  und,  schwatzen  und 
plappern  und  schnattern;  gerade  um  sechs 
Uhr  nehmen  sie  wiederum  Abschied;  um  halb 
acht  kehren  sie  noch'emal  zuriick,  und  plau 
dern  und  schwatzen  und  plappern  und  schnat 
tern  bis  zehn  Uhr,  oder  vielleicht  ein  Viertel 
nach,  falls  ihre  Uhren  nach  gehen  (und  stets 
gehen  sie  nach  am  Ende  des  Besuchs,  aber 
stets  vor  Beginn  desselben),  und  zuweilen  un- 
terhalten  sich  die  jungen  Leute  beim  Spaz- 
ierengehen ;  und  jeden  Sonntag  gehen  sie 
dreimal  in  die  Kirche;  und  immer  plaudern 
sie,  und  schwatzen  und  plappern  und  schnat 
tern  bis  ihnen  die  Zahnen  aus  dem  Munde 
fallen.  Und  ich  f  Durch  Mangel  an  Uebung, 
ist  mir  die  Zunge  mit  Moos  belegt  worden  ! 
Freilich  ist's  mir  eine  dumme  Zeit  gewesen. 
Aber — um  Gotteswillen,  was  geht  das  mir  an  ? 
Was  soil  ich  daraus  machen  ?  Taglich  sagt 
die  Frau  Wirthin  "  Gretchen  "  (dumb-show  of 
paying  a  piece  of  money  into  her  hand),  "  du 
bist  eine  der  besten  Sprach-Lehrerinnen  der 
Welt!"  Ach,  Gott!  Und  taglich  sagen  die 
edlen  jungen  Manner,  "Gretchen,  liebes 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  197 

Kind  "  (money -pay i Kg  again  in  dumb-show — 
three  coins],  "  bleib'  taub — blind — todt !  "  und 

so    bleibe   ich Jetzt    wird    es    ungefahr 

neun  Uhr  sein;  bald  kommen  sie  vom  Spazier- 
gehen  zuriick.  Also,  es  ware  gut  dass  ich 
meinem  eigenen  Schatz  einen  Besuch  abstatte 
und  spazieren  gehe.  (Dons  her  shawl.} 

Exit.    L. 
Enter  Wirthin.    R. 

WIRTHIN.  That  was  Mr.  Stephenson's  train 
that  just  came  in.  Evidently  the  girls  are  out 
walking  with  Gretchen; — can't  find  them,  and 
she  doesn't  seem  to  be  around.  (A  ring  at 
the  door.)  That's  him.  I'll  go  see. 

Exit.    R. 
Enter   Stephenson  and  Wirthin.    R. 

S.  Well,  how  does  sickness  seem  to  agree 
with  you  ? 

WIRTHIN.  So  well  that  I've  never  been  out  of 
my  room  since,  till  I  heard  your  train  come  in. 

S.  Thou  miracle  of  fidelity !  Now  I  argue 
from  that,  that  the  new  plan  is  working. 


IQ8  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

WlRTHlN.  Working?  Mr.  Stephenson,  you 
never  saw  anything  like  it  in  the  whole  course 
of  your  life !  It's  absolutely  wonderful  the 
way  it  works. 

S.  Succeeds  ?     No — you  don't  mean  it. 

WlRTHlN.  Indeed  I  do  mean  it.  I  tell  you, 
Mr.  Stephenson,  that  plan  was  just  an  inspira 
tion—that's  what  it  was.  You  could  teach  a 
cat  German  by  it. 

S.  Dear  me,  this  is  noble  news !  Tell  me 
about  it. 

WlRTHlN.  Well,  it's  all  Gretchen  —  ev-ery 
bit  of  it.  I  told  you  she  was  a  jewel.  And 
then  the  sagacity  of  that  child — why,  I  never 
dreamed  it  was  in  her.  Sh-she,  "Never  you 
ask  the  young  ladies  a  question — never  let  on 
—just  keep  mum — leave  the  whole  thing  to 
me,"  sh-she. 

S.  Good  !     And  she  justified,  did  she  ? 

WlRTHlN.  Well,  sir,  the  amount  of  German 
gabble  that  that  child  crammed  into  those  two 
girls  inside  the  next  forty-eight  hours — well,  / 
was  satisfied  !  So  I've  never  asked  a  question 
— never  wanted  to  ask  any.  I've  just  lain 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  199 

curled  up  there,  happy.  The  little  dears  !  they 
've  flitted  in  to  see  me  a  moment,  every  morn 
ing  and  noon  and  supper-time  ;  and  as  sure  as 
I'm  sitting  here,  inside  of  six  days  they  were 
clattering  German  to  me  like  a  house  afire ! 

S.  Sp-lendid,  splendid  ! 

WlRTHlN.  Of  course  it  ain't  grammatical— 
the  inventor  of  the  language  can't  talk  gram 
matical  ;  if  the  Dative  didn't  fetch  him  the  Ac 
cusative  would  ;  but  it's  German  all  the  same, 
and  don't  you  forget  it  ! 

S.  Go  on — go  on — this  is  delicious  news— 

WlRTHlN.  Gretchen,  she  says  to  me  at  the 
start,  "  Never  you  mind  about  company  for 
'em,"  sh-she — "  I'm  company  enough."  And 
I  says,  "All  right  —  fix  it  your  own  way, 
child  ";  and  that  she  was  right  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  to  this  day  they  don't  care  a  straw  for 
any  company  but  hers. 

S.  Dear  me  ;  why,  it's  admirable  ! 

WlRTHlN.  Well,  I  should  think  so!  They  just 
dote  on  that  hussy — can't  seem  to  get  enough 
of  her.  Gretchen  tells  me  so  herself.  And  the 
care  she  takes  of  them  !  She  tells  me  that 


200  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

every  time  there's  a  moonlight  night  she  coaxes 
them  out  for  a  walk  ;  and  if  a  body  can  believe 
her,  she  actually  bullies  them  off  to  church 
three  times  every  Sunday  ! 

S.  Why,  the  little  dev — missionary  !  Really, 
she's  a  genius  ! 

WlRTHIN.  She's  a  bud,  /  tell  you  !  Dear 
me,  how  she's  brought  those  girls'  health  up  ! 
Cheeks  ? — just  roses.  Gait  ?  —  they  walk  on 
watch-springs  !  And  happy  ? — by  the  bliss  in 
their  eyes,  you  *d  think  they're  in  Paradise  ! 
Ah,  that  Gretchen  !  Just  you  imagine  our 
trying  to  achieve  these  marvels  ! 

S.  You're  right — every  time.  Those  girls — 
why,  all  they  'd  have  wanted  to  know  was 
what  we  wanted  done — and  then  they  wouldn't 
have  done  it — the  mischievous  young  rascals  ! 

WlRTHIN.  Don't  tell  me  ?  Bless  you,  I  found 
that  out  early — when  /  was  bossing. 

S.  Well,  I'm  im  -  mensely  pleased.  Now 
fetch  them  down.  I'm  not  afraid  now.  They 
won't  want  to  go  home. 

WlRTHIN.  Home  !  I  don't  believe  you  could 
drag  them  away  from  Gretchen  with  nine  span 


MEISTERSCIIAFT.  2OI 

of  horses.  But  if  you  want  to  see  them,  put  on 
your  hat  and  come  along;  they're  out  some 
where  trapsing  along  with  Gretchen.  (Going.) 

S.  I'm  with  you — lead  on. 

WIRTHIN.  We'll  go  out  the  side  door.  It's 
toward  the  Anlage. 

Exit  both.     L. 
Enter  George  and  Margaret.     R. 

Her  head  lies  upon  his  shoulder,  his  arm  is  about  her 
waist;  they  are  steeped  in  sentiment. 

M.  (Turning  a  fond  face  up  at  him.)  Du 
Engel ! 

G.  Liebste  !     (Kiss.) 

M.  Oh,  das  Liedchen  dass  Du  mir  gewidmet 
hast — es  ist  so  schon,  so  wunderschon.  Wie 
hatte  ich  je  geahnt  dass  Du  ein  Poet  warest ! 

G.  Mein  Schatzchen  ! — es  ist  mir  lieb  wenn 
Dir  die  Kleinigkeit  gefallt. 

M.  Ah,  es  ist  mit  der  zartlichsten  Musik 
gefiillt — klingt  ja  so  suss  und  selig — wie  das 
Fliistern  des  Sommerwindes  die  Abenddam- 
merung  hindurch.  Wieder, — Theuerste! — sag' 
es  wieder. 


202  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

G.         Du  bist  wie  eine  Blume! — 

So  schon  und  hold  und  rein — 
Ich  schau  Dich  an,  und  Wehmuth 

Schleicht  mir  ins  Herz  hinein. 
Mir  ist  als  ob  ich  die  Hiinde 

Aufs  Haupt  Dir  legen  sollt, 
Betend  dass  Gott  Dich  erhalte, 

So  rein  und  schon  und  hold. 

M.  A-ch  !  (Dumb-show  sentiment aliswis.) 
Georgie — 

G.  Kindchen ! 

M.  Warum  kommen  sie  nicht  ? 

G.  Dass  weiss  ich  gar  nicht.     Sie  waren— 

M.  Es  wird  spat.  Wir  mussen  sie  antreiben. 
Komm  ! 

G.  Ich  glaube  sie  werden  recht  bald  ankom- 

men,  aber — 

Exit  both.     L. 

Enter  Gretchen,  R.,  in  a  state  of  mind.  Slumps  into 
a  chair  limp  with  despair. 

GR.  Ach  !  was  wird  jetzt  aus  mir  werden  ! 
Zufallig  habe  ich  in  der  Feme  den  verdamm- 
ten  Papa  gesehen  ! — und  die  Frau  Wirthin 
auch  !  Oh,  diese  Erscheinung, — die  hat  mir 
beinahe  das  Leben  genommen.  Sie  suchen 
die  jungen  Damen — das  weiss  ich  wenn  sie 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  2O3 

diese  und  die  jungen  Herren  zusammen  fanden 
— du  heiliger  Gott !  Wenn  das  geschicht, 
waren  wir  Alle  ganz  und  gar  verloren  !  Ich 
muss  sie  gleich  finden,  und  ihr  eine  Warnung 

geben  ! 

Exit.     L. 

Enter  Annie  and  Will.     R. 
Posed  like  the  former  couple  and  sentimental. 

A.  Ich  liebe  sich  schon  so  sehr — Deiner  ed- 
len  Natur  wegen.  Dass  du  dazu  auch  ein  Dich- 
ter  bist  ! — ach,  mein  Leben  ist  uebermassig 
reich  geworden  !  Wir  hatte  sich  doch  einbilden 
konnen  dass  ich  einen  Mann  zu  einem  so  wun- 
derschonen  Gedicht  hatte  begeistern  konnen  ! 

W.  Liebste  !     Es  ist  nur  eine  Kleinigkeit. 

A.  Nein,  nein,  es  ist  ein  echtes  Wunder  ! 
Sage  es  noch  einmal — ichflehe  Dich  an. 

W.         Du  bist  wie  eine  Blume! — 

So  schon  und  hold  und  rein — 
Ich  schau  Dich  an,  und  Wehmuth 

Schleicht  mir  ins  Herz  hinein. 
Mir  ist  als  ob  ich  die  Hiinde 

Aufs  Haupt  Dir  legen  sollt, 
Betend  dass  Gott  Dich  erhalte, 

So  rein  und  schon  und  hold. 


204  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

A.  Ach,  es  ist  himmlisch — einfach  himm- 
lisch.  (Kiss.)  Schreibt  auch  George  Ge- 
dichte  ? 

W.  Oh,  ja — zuweilen. 

A.  Wie  schon  ! 

W.  (Aside.)  Smouches  'em,  same  as  I  do! 
It  was  a  noble  good  idea  to  play  that  little 
thing  on  her.  George  wouldn't  ever  think  of 
that — somehow  he  never  had  any  invention. 

A.  (Arranging  chairs.)  Jetzt  will  ich  bei 
Dir  sitzen  bleiben,  und  Du— 

W.   (They  sit.)     Ja, — und  ich — 

A.  Du  wirst  mir  die  alte  Geschichte  die  im- 
mer  neu  bleibt,  noch  wieder  erzahlen. 

W.  Zum  Beispiel,  dass  ich  Dich  liebe  ! 

A.  Wieder! 

W.  Ich — sie  kommen  ! 

Enter  George  and  Margaret. 

A.  Das  macht  nichts.     Fortan  ! 

(George  unties  M.'s  bonnet.  She  re- ties  Jiis 
cravat — interspersings  of  love-pats,  etc.,  and 
dumb- s ho  10  of 'love-quarreling \y.) 

W.  Ich  liebe  Dich. 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  205 

A.  Ach  !     Noch  einmal  ! 

W.  Ich  habe  Dich  von  Herzen  lieb. 

A.  Ach  !     Abermals  ! 

W.  Bist  Du  denn  noch  nicht  satt  ? 

A.  Nein  !  (The  other  couple  sit  down,  and 
Margaret  begins  a  re-tying  of  the  cravat. 
Enter  the  Wirthin  and  Stephenson,  he  imposing 
silence  with  a  sign.}  Mich  hungert  sehr,  ich 


W.  Oh,  Du  armes  Kind  !  (Lays  her  head  on 
his  shoulder.  Dumb-show  between  Stephenson 
and  Wirthin.)  Und  hungert  es  nicht  mich  ? 
Du  hast  mir  nicht  einmal  gesagt— 

A.  Dass  ich  Dich  liebe  ?  Mein  Eigener  ! 
(Frau  Wirthin  threatens  to  faint  —  is  supported 
by  Stephenson^  Hore  mich  nur  an:  Ich  liebe 
Dich,  ich  liebe  Dich— 

Enter  Gretchen. 

GR.  (Tears  her  hair.)  Oh,  dass  ich  in  der 
Holle  ware  ! 

M.  Ich  liebe  Dich,  ich  liebe  Dich  !  Ah,  ich 
bin  so  ^iucklich  dass  ich  nicht  schlafen  kann, 
nicht  lesen  kann,  nicht  reden  kann,  nicht— 


206  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

A.  Und  ich  !  Ich  bin  auch  so  glucklich 
dass  ich  nicht  speisen  kann,  nicht  studieren, 
arbeiten,  denken,  schreiben— 

STEPHENSON.  (To  Wirtkm  —  aside.)  Oh, 
there  isn't  any  mistake  about  it — Gretchen's 
just  a  rattling  teacher  ! 

WlRTHlN.  (To  Stephenson— aside.)  I'll  skin 
her  alive  when  I  get  my  hands  on  her  ! 

M.  Komm,  alle  Verliebte  !  (They jump  zip, 
join  hands,  and  sing  in  chorus) — 

Du,  Du,  wie  ich  Dich  liebe, 
Du,  Du,  liebst  auch  mich! 
Die,  die  zartlichsten  Triebe — 

S.   (Stepping  forward.)     Well  ! 

The  girls  throw  themselves  upon  his  neck  with  en 
thusiasm. 

THE  GIRLS.  Why,  father  ! 

S.  My  darlings  ! 

The  young  men  hesitate  a  moment,  then  they  add 
their  embrace,  flinging  themselves  on  Stephenson's 
neck,  along  with  the  girls. 

THE  YOUNG  MEN.  Why,  father ! 
S.   (Struggling)  Oh  come,  this  is  too  thin  ! 
— too  quick,  I  mean.     Let  go,  you  rascals  ! 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  2O/ 

GEO.  We'll  never  let  go  till  you  put  us  on 
the  family  list. 

M.  Right !  hold  to  him  ! 
A.  Cling  to  him,  Will  ! 

Gretchen  rushes  in  and  joins  the  general  embrace, 
but  is  snatched  away  by  the  Wirthin,  crushed  up  against 
the  wall  and  threatened  with  destruction. 

S.  (Suffocating^  All  right,  all  right— have 
it  your  own  way,  you  quartette  of  swindlers  ! 

W.  He  's  a  darling  !  Three  cheers  for 
papa  ! 

EVERYBODY.  (Except  Stephenson  who  bows 
with  hand  on  heart?)  Hip — hip — hip  :  hurrah, 
hurrah,  hurrah  ! 

GR.  Der  Tiger— ah-h-h  ! 

WIRTHIN.  Sei  ruhig,  you  hussy  ! 

S.  Well,  I've  lost  a  couple  of  precious 
daughters,  but  I've  gained  a  couple  of  precious 
scamps  to  fill  up  the  gap  with  ;  so  it's  all  right. 
I'm  satisfied,  and  everybody's  forgiven — (With 
mock  tJ treats  at  Gretchen) 

W.  Oh,  wir  werden  fiir  Dich  sorgen — du 
herrliches  Gretchen  ! 


208  MEISTERSCHAFT. 

GR.  Danke  schon  ! 

M.  (To  Wirthin.)  Und  fur  Sie  auch  ;  denn 
wenn  Sie  nicht  so  freundlich  gewesen  waren, 
krank  zu  warden,  wie  waren  wir  je  sogliicklich 
geworden  wie  jetzt  ? 

WIRTHIN.  Well,  dear,  I  was  kind,  but  I 
didn't  mean  it.  But  I  ain't  sorry — not  one  bit 
—that  I  ain't. 

Tableau. 

S.  Come  now,  the  situation  is  full  of  hope, 
and  grace,  and  tender  sentiment.  If  I  had  in 
the  least  the  poetic  gift,  I  know  I  could  impro 
vise  under  such  an  inspiration  (each  girl  nudges 
her  sweetheart)  something  worthy  to — to — is 
there  no  poet  among  us  ? 

Each  youth  turns  solemnly  his  back  upon  the  other 
and  raises  his  hands  in  benediction  over  his  sweet 
heart's  bowed  head. 

Both  youths  at  once. 

Mir  ist  als  ob  ich  die  Hande 
Aus  Haupt  Dir  legen  sollt — 

They  turn  and  look  reproachfully  at  each  other — the 
girls  contemplate  them  with  injured  surprise. 


MEISTERSCHAFT.  2OQ 

S.  {Reflectively •.)  I  think  I've  heard  that  be 
fore  somewhere. 

WlRTHlN.  (Aside.)  Why  the  very  cats  in 
Germany  know  it ! 

Curtain. 


Price- List  of  "Publications  issued  by 
CHARLES  L.  WEBSTER  &   CO. 


William  Sharp. 

Flower  o'  the  Vine :  Romantic  Ballads  and  Sos- 
piri  di  Roma. — This  volume  contains  the  poems 
in  Mr.  Sharp's  latest  books  of  verse,  now  entirely  out  of 
print.  His  collaboration  with  Blanche  Willis  Howard 
in  the  novel  "  A  Fellowe  and  His  Wife,"  has  made  his 
name  familiar  to  American  readers.  As  one  of  the  most 
popular  of  the  younger  English  poets,  we  anticipate  an 
equal  success  in  America  for  "  Flower  6'  the  Vine,"  for 
which  Mr.  Thomas  A.  Janvier  has  prepared  an  Intro 
duction.  Handsomely  bound,  uniform  with  Aldrich's 
"  Sisters'  Tragedy  " and  Cora Fabbri's  "Lyrics."  Cloth, 
$1.50. 

Dan  Beard. 

Moonblight  and  Three  Feet  of  Romance.— Octa 
vo,  300  pages,  fully  illustrated.  This  story  we  believe 
will  take  rank  with  "Looking  Backward."  It  treats  of 
some  of  the  great  social  problems  of  the  day  in  a  novel, 
powerful,  and  intensely  interesting  manner.  The  hero 
becomes  strangely  endowed  with  the  power  of  seeing 
people  in  their  true  light.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  this 
power  proves  both  a  curse  and  a  blessing,  and  leads  to 
many  and  strange  adventures.  Mr.  Beard's  reputation 
as  an  artist  is  wrorld-wide,  and  the  numerous  illustra 
tions  he  provides  for  this  book  powerfully  portray  the 
spirit  of  the  text.  Cloth,  ink  and  gold  stamps,  $2.00. 

Mark  Twain  s  Books. 

Adventures  of  Huckleberry  Finn.— Holiday  edi 
tion.  Square  8vo,  366  pages.  Illustrated  by  E.  W. 
Kemble.  Sheep,  $3.25;  cloth,  $2.75. 

New  Cheap  Edition  of  Huckleberry  Finn. — 12mo, 
318  pages,  with  a  few  illustrations.  Cloth,  $1.00. 


Price-List  of  Publications. 

The  Prince  and  the  Pauper.— A  square  8vo  volume 
of  411  pages.  Beautifully  illustrated.  Sheep  $8.75; 
cloth,  $3.00. 

A  Connecticut  Yankee  in  King  Arthur's  Court.  — 
A  square  8vo  of  575  pages;  221  illustrations  by  Dan 
Beard.  Half  morocco,  $5.00;  sheep,  $4.00;  cloth, 
$3.00. 

Mark  Twain  Holiday  Set. — Three  volumes  in  a  box, 
consisting  of  the  best  editions  of  "Huckleberry  Finn," 
"  Prince  and  Pauper,"  and  "  A  Connecticut  Yankee." 
Square  8vo.  Uniform  in  size,  binding,  and  color. 
Sold  only  in  sets.  Cloth,  $6.00. 

Eighteen  Short  Stories  and  Sketches. — By  Mark 
Twain.  Including  "The  Stolen  White  Elephant," 
"Some  Rambling  Notes,"  "The  Carnival  of  Crime," 
"A  Curious  Experience,"  "Punch,  Brothers,  Punch, " 
"The  Invalid's  Story,"  etc.,  etc.  16mo,  306  pages. 
Cloth,  $1.00. 

Mark  Twain's  "Library  of  Humor." — A  volume 
of  145  Characteristic  Selections  from  the  Best  Writers, 
together  with  a  Short  Biographical  Sketch  of  Each  Au 
thor  quoted.  Compiled  by  Mark  Twain.  Nearly  200 
illustrations  by  E.  W  Kemble.  8vo,  707  pages.  Full 
Turkey  morocco,  $7.00;  half  morocco,  $5.00;  half  seal, 
$4.25;  sheep,  $4.00;  cloth,  $3.50. 

Life  on  the  Mississippi. — 8vo,  624  pages;  and  over 
300  illustrations.  Sheep,  $4.25;  cloth,  $3.50. 

Innocents  Abroad;  or,  The  New  Pilgrim's  Progress. 
Sheep,  $4.00;  cloth,  $3.50. 

Roughing  It. — 600  pages;  300  illustrations.  Sheep, 
$4.00;  cloth,  $3.50. 

Sketches,  Old  and  New. — 320  pages;  122  illustrations. 
Sheep,  $3.50;  cloth,  $3.00. 

Adventures  of  Tom  Sawyer. — 150  engravings;  275 
pages.  Sheep,  $3.25;  cloth,  $2.75. 

The  Gilded  Age. — 576  pages;  212  illustrations.  Sheep, 
$4.00;  cloth,  $3.50. 

A  Tramp  Abroad.     Mark  Twain  in  Europe.— A 

Companion    Volume    to    "Innocents   Abroad."       631 
pages.     Sheep,  $4.00;  cloth,  $3.50. 


Charles  Z.  Webster   £f  Co. 


The  War  Series. 

The  Genesis  of  the  Civil  War.— The  Story  of  Sum- 
ter,  by  Major-General  S.  W.  Crawford,  A.  M.,  M.  D., 
LL.  D.  Illustrated  with  steel  and  wood  engravings 
and  fac-siniiles  of  celebrated  letters.  8vo,  uniform  with 
Grant's  Memoirs.  Full  morocco,  $8.00;  half  morocco, 
$5.50;  sheep,  $4.25;  cloth,  $3.50. 

Personal  Memoirs  of  General  Grant. — Illustra 
tions  and  maps,  etc.  2  vols. ;  8vo.  Half  morocco,  per 
set,  $11.00;  sheep,  per  set,  $6.00;  cloth,  per  set,  $7.00. 
A  few  sets  in  full  Turkey  morocco  and  tree  calf  for  sale 
at  special  low  prices. 

Personal  Memoirs  of  General  Sherman. — With 
appendix  by  Hon.  James  G.  Blaine.  Illustrated;  2 
vols. ;  8vo,  uniform  with  Grant's  Memoirs.  Half  mo 
rocco,  per  set,  $8.50;  sheep,  per  set,  $7.00;  cloth,  per 
set,  $5.00.  Cheap  edition,  in  one  large  volume.  Cloth, 
$2.00. 

Personal  Memoirs  of  General  Sheridan.— Illus 
trated  with  steel  portraits  and  woodcuts;  26  maps;  2 
vols. ;  8vo,  uniform  with  Grant's  Memoirs.  Half  mo 
rocco,  per  set,  $10.00;  sheep,  per  set,  $8.00;  cloth,  per 
set,  $6.00.  A  few  sets  in  full  Turkey  morocco  and  tree 
calf  to  be  disposed  of  at  very  low  figures.  Cheap  edi 
tion,  in  one  large  volume,  cloth  binding,  $2.00. 

McClellan's  Own  Story.  —  With  illustrations  from 
sketches  drawn  on  the  field  of  battle  by  A.  R.  Wand, 
the  Great  War  Artist.  8vo,  uniform  with  Grant's  Me 
moirs.  Full  morocco,  $9.00;  half  morocco,  $6.00; 
sheep,  $4.75;  cloth,  $3.75. 

Memoirs  of  John  A.  Dahlgren. — Rear  -  Admiral 
United  States  Navy.  By  his  widow,  Madeleine  Vinton 
Dahlgren.  A  large  octavo  volume  of  660  pages,  with 
steel  portrait,  maps  and  illustrations.  Cloth,  $3.00. 

Reminiscences  of  Winfleld  Scott  Hancock.— By 
his  wife.  Illustrated;  steel  portraits  of  General  and 
Mrs.  Hancock;  8vo,  uniform  with  Grant's  Memoirs. 
Full  morocco,  $5.00;  half  morocco,  $4.00;  sheep, 
$3.50;  cloth,  $2.75. 


Price-List  of  Publications. 

Tenting  on  the  Plains. —With  the  Life  of  General 
Ouster,  by  Mrs.  E.  B.  Custer.  Illustrated;  8vo,  uni 
form  with  Grant's  Memoirs.  Full  morocco,  $7.00;  half 
morocco,  $5.50;  sheep,  $4.25;  cloth,  $3.50. 

Portrait  of  General  Sherman.— A  magnificent  line 
etching  on  copper;  size  19x24 inches;  by  the  celebrated 
artist,  Charles  B.  Hall.  $2.00.  (Special  prices  on 
quantities.) 

The  Great  War  Library.— Consisting  of  the  best  edi 
tions  of  the  foregoing  seven  publications  (Grant,  Sheri 
dan,  Sherman,  Hancock,  McClellan,  Custer  and  Craw 
ford).  Ten  volumes  in  a  box;  uniform  in  style  and 
binding.  Half  morocco,  $50.00;  sheep,  $40.00;  cloth, 
$30.00. 

Other  Biographical  Works. 

Life  of  Jane  Welsh  Carlyle. —  By  Mrs.  Alexander 
Ireland.  With  portrait  and  fac-simile  letter;  8vo,  324 
pages.  Vellum  cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.75. 

Life  and.  Letters  of  Roscoe  Conkling. — By  Hon. 
Alfred  R.  Conkling,  Ph.  B.,  LL.D. ;  steel  portrait  and 
fac-similes  of  important  letters  to  Conkling  from  Grant, 
Arthur,  Garfield,  etc.  8vo,  over  700  pages.  Half  mo 
rocco,  $5.50;  full  seal,  $5.00;  sheep,  $4.00;  cloth, 
$3.00. 

Life  of  Pope  Leo  XIII.— By  Bernard  O'Reilly,  D.  D., 
L.  D.  (Laval.)  Written  with  the  encouragement  and 
blessing  of  His  Holiness,  the  Pope.  8vo,  635  pages; 
colored  and  steel  plates,  and  full-page  illustrations. 
Half  morocco,  $6.00;  half  Russia,  $5.00;  cloth,  gilt 
edges,  $3.75. 

Distinguished  American  Lawyers.  —  With  their 
Struggles  and  Triumphs  in  the  Forum.  Containing  an 
elegantly  engraved  portrait,  autograph  and  biography 
of  each  subject,  embracing  the  professional  work  and 
the  public  career  of  those  called  to  serve  their  country. 
By  Henry  W.  Scott.  Introduction  by  Hon.  John  J. 
Ingalls.  A  large  royal  octavo  volume  of  716  pages, 
with  62  portraits  of  the  most  eminent  lawyers.  Sheep, 
$4.25;  cloth,  $3.50. 


Charles  L.   IVcbster   6r'  Co. 

Miscellaneous. 

Concise  Cyclopedia  of  Religious  Knowledge.— 

Biblical,  Biographical,  Theological,  Historical  and  Prac 
tical;  edited  by  Rev.  E.  B.  Sanford,  M.  A.,  assisted  by 
over  30  of  the  most  eminent  religious  scholars  in  the 
country.  1  vol. ;  royal  8vo,  nearly  1,000  double-column 
pages.  Half  morocco,  $6.00;  sheep,  $5.00;  cloth, 
$3.50. 

The  Table. — How  to  Buy  Food,  How  to  Cook  It,  and 
How  to  Serve  It,  by  A.'Filippini,  of  Delmonico's;  the 
only  cook-book  ever  endorsed  by  Delmonico;  contains 
three  menus  for  each  day  in  the  year,  and  over  1,500 
original  recipes,  the  most  of  which  have  been  guarded 
as  secrets  by  the  chefs  of  Delmonico.  Contains  the  sim 
plest  as  well  as  the  most  elaborate  recipes.  Presenta 
tion  edition  in  full  seal  Russia,  $4.50;  Kitchen  edition 
in  oil-cloth,  $2.50. 

One  Hundred  Ways  of  Cooking  Eggs.— Mr.  Filip- 
pini  is  probably  the  only  man  who  can  cook  eggs  in  a 
hundred  different  ways,  and  this  little  book  will  be 
worth  its  price  ten  times  over  to  any  purchaser.  Cloth 
binding,  ink  and  gold  stamps,  50  cents. 
Also  uniform  with  the  above, 

One  Hundred  Recipes  for  Cooking  and  Serving 

Fish. — This  book  contains  only  the  best  recipes,  all  of 

which  have  been  tested   by  Mr.  Filippini   during  25 

years'  experience  with  the  Delmonicos.     Cloth  binding, 

ink  and  gold  stamps,  50  cents. 
Yale  Lectures  on  Preaching,  and  other  Writings,  by 

Rev.  Nathaniel  Burton,   D.  D. ;  edited  by  Richard  E. 

Burton.     8vo,  640  pages;  steel  portrait.     Cloth,  $3.75. 
Legends  and  Myths  of  Hawaii. — By  the  late  King 

Kalakaua;  two  steel  portraits  and  25  other  illustrations. 

8vo,  530  pages.     Cloth,  $3.00. 
The  Diversions  of  a  Diplomat  in  Turkey.— By 

the  late   Hon.   S.   S.   Cox.     8vo,  685  pages;  profusely 

illustrated.     Half  morocco,  $6.00;  sheep,  $4.75;  cloth, 

$3.75. 
Inside  the  White  House  in  War  Times.— By  W. 

O.    Stoddard,    one    of    Lincoln's    Private    Secretaries. 

12mo,  244  pages.     Cloth,  $1.00. 


Price-List  of  Publications. 

Tinkletop's  Crime,  and  eighteen  other  Short  Stories,  by 
George  II.  Sims.  1  vol. ;  12mo,  316  pages.  Cloth, 
$1.00;  paper  covers,  50  cents. 

My  Life  with  Stanley's  Rear  Guard.— By  Herbert 
Ward,  one  of  the  Captains  of  Stanley's  Rear  Guard; 
includes  Mr.  Ward's  Reply  to  H.  M.  Stanley.  12mo. 
Cloth,  $1.00;  paper  covers,  50  cents. 

The  Peril  of  Oliver  Sargent.— By  Edgar  Janes  Bliss. 
12mo.  Cloth,  $1.00;  paper  covers,  50  cents. 

The  Old  Devil  and  the  Three  Little  Devils ;  or, 
Ivan  The  Fool,  by  Count  Leo  Tolstoi,  translated  direct 
from  the  Russian  by  Count  Norraikpw,  with  illustra 
tions  by  the  celebrated  Russian  artist,  Gribayedoff 
12mo.  'Cloth,  $1.00. 

Life  IS  Worth  Living,  and  Other  Stories.— 
Translated  direct  from  the  Russian  by  Count  Norrai- 
kow.  This  work,  unlike  some  of  his  later  writings, 
shows  the  great  Russian  at  his  best.  The  stories  are 
pure,  simple  and  powerful;  intensely  interesting  as 
mere  creations  of  fancy,  but,  like  all  Tolstoi's  works, 
written  for  a  purpose,  and  containing  abundant  food  for 
earnest  reflection.  Cloth,  ink  and  gold  stamps,  $1.00. 

The  Happy  Isles,  and  Other  Poems,  by  S.  H.  M.  Byers. 
Small  12mo.  Cloth  binding,  $1.00. 

Physical  Beauty  :  How  to  Obtain  and  How  to  Preserve 
It,  by  Annie  Jenness  Miller;  including  chapters  on  Hy- 

f'ene,  Foods,  Sleep,  Bodily  Expression,  the  Skin,  the 
yes,  the  Teeth,  the  Hair,  Dress,  the  Cultivation  of 
Individuality,  etc. ,  etc.  An  octavo  volume  of  about  300 
pages.  Cloth,  $2.00. 

Hour-Glass  Series. — By  Daniel  B.  Lucas,  LL.  D.,  and 
J.  Fairfax  McLaughlin,  LL.  D.  The  first  volume, 
which  is  now  ready,  contains  a  series  of  historical  epit 
omes  of  national  interest,  with  interesting  sketches  of 
such  men  as  Henry  Clay,  Daniel  O'Connell  and  Fisher 
Ames.  Large  12mo.  Cloth,  $1.00. 

Adventures  of  A  Fair  Rebel.— Author  of  '"Zeki'l," 
"  Bet  Crow,"  "  S'phiry  Ann,"  "  Was  It  an  Exceptional 
Case?"  etc.  A  story  that  is  sure  to  be  eagerly  sought 
after  and  read  by  Miss  Crim's  many  admirers.  Stamped 
cloth,  $1.00;  paper  covers,  50  cents. 


Charles  L.   Webster   <5f  Co. 


In  Beaver  Cove  and  Elsewhere.— Octavo,  about  350 
pages,  illustrated. 

PRESS   OPINIONS. 

"  A  writer  who  has  quickly  won  wide  recognition  by  short 
stories  of  exceptional  power.1' — New  York  Independent. 
"  Her  magazine  articles  bear  the  stamp  of  genius." — St.  Paul 
Globe. 

This  volume  contains  all  of  Miss  Crim's  most  famous 
short  stories.  These  stories  have  received  the  highest 
praise  from  eminent  critics  and  prominent  literary  jour 
nals,  and  have  given  Miss  Grim  a  position  among  the 
leading  lady  writers  of  America.  Cloth,  handsomely 
stamped,  $1.00;  paper  covers,  50  cents. 
The  Flowing  Bowl :  What  and  When  to  Drink  ;  by 
the  only  William  (William  Schmidt);  giving  full  in 
structions  how  to  prepare,  mix,  and  serve  drinks:  also 
receipts  for  227  Mixed  Drinks,  89  Liquors  and  Ratafias, 
115  Punches,  58  Bowls,  and  29  Extra  Drinks.  An  8vo 
of  300  pages.  Fine  cloth,  gilt  stamp,  $2.00. 


HOME  USE 

CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 
MAIN  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 
1 -month  loans  may  be  renewed  by  calling  642-3405. 
6-month  loans  may  be  recharged  by  bringing  books 

to  Circulation  Desk. 
Renewals  and  recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior 

to  due  date. 

ALL  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  RECALL  7  DAYS 
AFTER  DATE  CHECKED  OUT. 


SEP  20  1974  84 

^^  Cii.      MM     ?  7 

MAY     8  1979  "•  ' 


31984 


KCI  V        TtD 


LD2i-A30m-7,'73  General  Library 


F^  .  ^  ff . 


